


Guns in My Head (And They Won't Go)

by enigmaticblue



Series: Dean Winchester, Agent of SHIELD [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Community: hc_bingo, Community: trope_bingo, Explosions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: Dean isn’t sure how he feels about the fact that he’s now a weapon.





	Guns in My Head (And They Won't Go)

**Author's Note:**

> Liberties have been taken with the timeline. Sorry, not sorry. I have one other story written in this series that's with my beta, with additional fics planned, so you won't have to wait long for the next part. Serves as a fill for trope_bingo, for "hurt/comfort" and as a fill for my hc_bingo wild card square, "explosions."
> 
> WARNINGS: There are some mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well as collateral damage. If you think that might be triggering for you, and you want to know more, see the end of the work for more notes.

Dean hasn’t been drunk since before he threw himself on the splinter bomb, but he realizes that he’s more than halfway there as Thor says, “Ah, I see! We have people on Asgard who dress up and recreate historical events.”

 

“It’s a test of skill, too,” Dean says. “To see how accurate they can make their costumes.”

 

“I would like to see more of these costumes,” Thor declares. “Where do these people gather?”

 

Dean considers taking Thor to a convention, and wonders how many minds he would blow. Of course, they could probably put Thor in regular clothing.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a terrible idea,” Clint says.

 

Dean grins. “Come on! New York Comic Con!”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile playing around her lips. “You would blow their minds.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Dean says.

 

Thor leans forward. “I would be interested in this venture.”

 

Bruce groans. “You two are going to get into so much trouble.”

 

“Of course,” Dean says. “That’s the fun part.”

 

“I’d probably better go,” Clint says. “Can’t let you have all that fun without me, and Fury’s not around to forbid it.”

 

Thor beams. “What about your brother, Dean? Would he be joining us?”

 

Dean winces, feeling the joy leech out of him. His evening had been going so well, too. He had a great day with Bobby, and the party has been fun. He’ll have to say goodbye tomorrow, but it’s been a good visit. He hasn’t thought about Sam; he hasn’t _wanted_ to think about Sam.

 

He’s been doing a pretty good job _not_ thinking about Sam, actually, except for when he gets another voicemail.

 

“Yeah, we’re not exactly talking right now,” Dean admits. “We had a fight the last time he was in town.”

 

“Brothers fight,” Thor replies. “My brother betrayed me, and tried to take over the world.”

 

Dean snorts. “Well, I can’t really compete with that.”

 

“And when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake,” Thor continues. “Because he knew I loved snakes, and when I picked it up to admire it, he turned back into himself and stabbed me.”

 

Dean starts laughing. “Okay, the next time Sam pisses me off, and I start thinking he’s the worst, I’m just going to talk to you.”

 

“Didn’t your brother ever stab you?” Thor asks.

 

“No, dude,” Dean replies. “But there was one time that he pitched a fit because we didn’t have any more mac and cheese, and he didn’t want to eat the ravioli that we did have, so he told Dad that I spent the money he left for food on comics.”

 

Thor frowns. “I’m not sure what any of that means.”

 

“Dad would leave us on our own, and he’d leave us food money, but I had to be careful how I spent it,” Dean explains. “The ravioli cans were dented and cheaper, so I got those. Sam got me into trouble with our dad.”

 

“Loki was also very good at getting me into trouble with our father,” Thor commiserates. “And my father is not terribly forgiving.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Dean says, and he’s warming to the topic now. “Sam was being a pain in the ass one night, and I went to play some video games. I thought Dad was going to tear me a new one.”

 

“Loki loved to get me in trouble,” Thor says. “He would create these schemes and assure me that they were good ideas. Loki has always been clever, and I would go along, and I would always be blamed.”

 

Clint snorts in agreement. “My brother left me holding the bag after he stole a bunch of stuff. I was lucky that the judge decided that enlisting in the Army was a suitable alternative to juvie.”

 

Thor frowns. “What is this ‘juvie?’”

 

“It’s where they stick kids who break the law,” Dean says. “That’s basically what happened to me, although I was lucky enough to wind up at Sonny’s place.”

 

Thor leans forward. “I must confess that I do not understand.”

 

In a way, it’s easier to explain this to Thor, who doesn’t have much of an understanding of earth culture and customs. “My dad didn’t leave enough money for food, and Sam was whining about being hungry. I didn’t know when he was coming back, and we had no way of contacting him, so I stole some food. I got caught, the court sentenced me to time in a group home, and Dad just never came to pick me up.”

 

“Your brother got you into trouble, and your father left you to take the consequences,” Thor summarizes.

 

“Pretty much.”

 

Thor nods. “My father also liked to do that. Even when Loki should have been the one paying the price. Loki always complained that I was Father’s favorite, but our father always went easier on Loki.”

 

“Oh, god, you too?” Dean asks.

 

“There was one time when our father gave us identical gifts, and Loki still complained that my gift was better than his, and convinced me to switch,” Thor replies. “Only he already broke his.”

 

“Sam always ate the last of the cereal,” Dean complains. “ _Always_. And he would always finish up my favorite kind first.”

 

“Loki would always insist on the choicest bits of meat,” Thor says. “And when I had a favorite piece of meat, he would insist that it was _his_ favorite.”

 

Dean is rather amused that he’s having a mutual bitch session with Thor about younger brothers. “But he’s your brother, even if he did try to take over the world.”

 

Thor inclines his head. “Although I can’t say that I’m particularly anxious to see him again.”

 

“Same for me,” Dean admits, although he’d once been so hopeful that they would actually reconcile. His phone starts to ring, and he grimaces at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil.”

 

“Give that to me,” Natasha says imperiously, and it would take a braver man than Dean to say no when she uses that tone of voice.

 

He hands her his phone, and the room goes quiet as they all wait to see what Natasha will do. “What.”

 

Her tone is flat, uninviting, and if Sam isn’t quaking in his oversized boots, he’s dumber than he looks, in Dean’s estimation.

 

He can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he can hear Natasha, who follows that up with, “Yes,” she replies with a cold tone. “What do you want, Sam?”

 

Natasha’s frown deepens. “Why do you want to talk to him?”

 

There’s another pause.  “If you wanted to apologize, you would have done so already. Instead, you want to know that Dean isn’t going to hold what you said against you without doing any of the hard work.”

 

Another pause, and Dean really wishes he could hear Sam’s side of the conversation, if only because he’d like to know what _not_ to say to put that look on her face.

 

“No, and he isn’t taking your calls,” Natasha replies. “If you persist, I will hunt you down and string you up by your dick. Don’t bother calling again until you’re ready to offer a real apology.”

 

She immediately hangs up, muttering something under her breath in Russian. Dean’s been brushing up—particularly on curse words, if only to know what she’s saying at all times—but Natasha is inventive, and he can’t quite follow. He thinks there’s something about a stupid fucking cow, but he’s not entirely sure.

 

Whatever she says, it’s certainly not complimentary, and it’s full of words in contexts that he’s unfamiliar with.

 

Clearly, he’s going to have to work harder on his Russian.

 

“He won’t bother you again any time soon,” she says, as soon as she’s vented her spleen.

 

“No, not unless he’s stupid,” Dean agrees. “I think you threatened him quite thoroughly.”

 

Her eyes narrow. “Problem?”

 

“Not at all,” Dean replies. “He’s been calling every few days. It was getting irritating.”

 

She nods. “Good. Then that’s taken care of.” She hands his phone back. “Come to bed, Dean.”

 

“Right, that’s my cue,” Dean says. “Good night, everybody. Good talk, Thor. Sorry your brother sucks way more than mine.”

 

“I’m sorry your reconciliation with your brother was not as successful as you’d hoped,” Thor replies. “The loss is his, Dean.”

 

It’s one of the kindest things someone has ever said to him. “Yeah, well, the loss is your brother’s, too.”

 

“I do not believe Loki would agree, but the sentiment is appreciated,” Thor replies.

 

Dean grins at him. “Yeah, well, Loki tried to take over the world, so I don’t think we should take his opinion into consideration.”

 

Thor raises his drink in a silent salute, and Dean follows Natasha back to his bedroom, located in another area of the Tower.

 

He knows his room isn’t far from Bobby’s, but the Tower has thick walls, and considerable soundproofing, so Dean isn’t too worried when Natasha pushes him against the wall and shoves her tongue down his throat.

 

Not that Dean is complaining, not at all.

 

She wraps her legs around his waist, and Dean cups her ass. Listening to her threaten Sam shouldn’t be hot, but Dean has never really had a lot of people to take his side. His dad hadn’t, and Bobby hadn’t seemed to until recently.

 

Natasha is in his corner, though, and she bites gently at his throat. “He is an idiot, and you shouldn’t talk to him until he is less of an idiot. Otherwise, perhaps your IQ will drop in the same way.”

 

“I’m not worried about that,” Dean protests.

 

“Maybe you should be,” Natasha replies, and Dean can’t find it in him to argue with her.

 

He sometimes wonders if he’ll ever get used to this, ever get used to having her in this way. He wonders if Natasha will eventually get tired of him. He knows they’re serious; he can’t help but know, but they’ve never really talked about it.

 

He doesn’t want to talk about it, though. He doesn’t want to risk what they do have.

 

“Stop thinking,” Natasha orders, and Dean decides to do as he’s ordered.

 

Apparently, he has a respite.

 

~~~~~

 

The next morning, he wakes up alone in his Tower apartment and thinks that maybe he should just move in. He likes the Tower, actually. It’s peaceful and safe, and if he blows something up, there’s a reasonable chance he won’t kill anybody or destroy anything that isn’t easily replaced.

 

But there’s a part of Dean that won’t let him give up on his own place, that clings to some remnant of his life pre-bomb. He’s not normal—he’s never been normal—but ordinary guys have apartments, even if the building is owned by a friend. Normal guys have girlfriends—although maybe not super spy girlfriends unless they’re really lucky.

 

The point is, Dean’s not ready to give up the few trappings of a normal life he still has when he can afford rent.

 

He half expects to find Bobby already gone, but he’s in the communal kitchen, drinking coffee with Natasha while Bruce puts the kettle on for tea.

 

“There’s a casserole in the oven,” Bruce says.

 

“Had some trouble sleeping, Doc?” Dean asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “No more than usual. You?”

 

“Better than I have for a while,” Dean replies. “Can I help?”

 

“You can help me cut up some fruit,” Bruce says as he hands Dean a knife and a cantaloupe.

 

Dean feels like he should be monitoring Bobby’s conversation with Natasha, but they seem to be talking about—Russian art? He had no idea Bobby knew anything about that, and he’s struck once again by how comfortable Bobby seems to be here.

 

Maybe Dean should have invited Bobby to come visit before now. Maybe he should have tried harder to make Bobby part of his life.

 

But that’s all water under the bridge, and he’s here now. He’s part of Dean’s life _now_.

 

“You got anything on the line, Bobby?” Dean asks when he’s finished cutting up the fruit, and there’s a lull in the conversation.

 

Bobby shrugs. “Not at the moment, but I’m sure there are a few messages waiting for me, and a few cars to fix. You know how it goes.”

 

“Yeah, I do know,” Dean says, and is grateful all over again that Bobby has been willing to stay as long as he has. “I really appreciate you coming out.”

 

He shakes his head. “I should have done it a long time ago. Just glad I could make it now.”

 

All of the Avengers show up for breakfast, maybe because it had been so late when they wrapped up the party, but it becomes pretty obvious that they’re present to see Bobby off. They eat breakfast together, and Thor asks Bobby what monsters they have and if they’re anything like bilge snipes.

 

That story takes up most of the time, with the others chiming in with their own stories, and Dean is happier and more relaxed than he’s been in a long time.

 

“Well, this has been great, but I need to get on the road,” Bobby announces mid-morning. “Thanks for your welcome.”

 

“Come back any time,” Tony says, clasping Bobby’s hand. “And I mean that. I’ll leave word with my people that there should always be a room waiting for you.”

 

Bobby nods. “Appreciate it. There are always a few engines waiting for your magic touch in Sioux Falls.”

 

Tony barks a laugh. “Yeah, well, we might need that safe haven some day.”

 

Bruce also offers his hand. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

Bobby smiles. “And he’ll take care of you. Thanks.”

 

Steve simply shakes his hand and offers a firm nod, Clint claps him on the shoulder, Thor grasps his forearm and says, “You are a worthy warrior, my friend.”

 

Bobby almost blushes at that, as he turns to Natasha.

 

To Dean’s surprise, she embraces him warmly, whispering something in Bobby’s ear that makes him turn red. “Well,” Bobby says, hesitating. “I’m glad you’re watching Dean’s back.”

 

Dean trails Bobby down to the garage, to the restored Chevelle, and he whistles under his breath. “Holy shit, that looks great. Tony does good work,” Dean says. “Bobby—” He stops. “Thanks.”

 

He doesn’t know what else to say, how else to say it, but Bobby pulls him in for a rib-cracking hug. “You’re a good man. You do good.”

 

Dean nods. “You take care of yourself. And—take care of Sam when he’ll let you.”

 

Bobby shakes his head. “Don’t worry about your brother, Dean. You take care of yourself right now.”

 

“Sam—”

 

“Sam’s a grown man,” Bobby inserts. “Maybe let him come to you this time”

 

Dean breathes out. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

Bobby hugs him and pounds him on the back. “I’m proud of you, son.”

 

Dean blinks hard to banish the tears. “Thanks.”

 

He hesitates, but then he says, “Love you, Uncle Bobby.”

 

Dean doesn’t say the words, and he knows they don’t talk about how they feel, but he’s been thinking about his old team recently, wondering if they knew. He thinks they did, but he never said it. He has to live with that regret, but he can’t risk Bobby not knowing.

 

Bobby grunts and pulls back, and then he cups the back of Dean’s neck. “I couldn’t be more proud of you if you were my own. You understand?”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.”

 

“Good.” Bobby hesitates, and Dean knows he wants to say more, and he gets it. He knows how Bobby feels. Nobody takes that kind of a road trip for someone they don’t. “Let your team take care of you when they can. You can take care of yourself, but it’s not the same.”

 

Dean nods and steps back.

 

The newly shiny Chevelle looks great, and Bobby climbs behind the wheel. Dean has the weird sense that he’ll never see Bobby again, but he chalks that up to his own sense of fatality.

 

It doesn’t mean anything, Dean tells himself. It can’t mean anything. It’s just a passing thought born of his abandonment issues.

 

Dean waves and Bobby drives off, and he takes a deep breath. The only thing to do is to do something to get his mind off things, and training will do that.

 

He thinks Steve might understand, because he’s waiting for Dean in the gym. “I’ll spot you,” Steve says simply.

 

Dean nods, and it’s a lot like his Ranger days, when he worked out with his team. Not that Dean can really spot Steve, but Steve doesn’t need the help.

 

“What do you think the next step is after Sokovia, Cap?” Dean asks in the middle of his third set of leg presses.

 

“Tracking down the rest of Hydra,” Steve replies, like there’s no question.

 

Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that goes without saying, but do you have anything specific, beyond tracking down Hydra?”

 

“I’d like to find Bucky,” Steve says. “Sam—Wilson, not your brother—has been helping, but he can’t do that forever.”

 

Dean is quiet for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Cap, but Bucky—we don’t know how Hydra brainwashed him. We don’t know if the trigger is still in his brain.”

 

“So, we’ll find the solution.”

 

Steve can be a stubborn cuss when he wants to be, and Dean wants to push, but he knows better. Now isn’t the time, but he probably owes it to Steve—and maybe to Bucky, and to their goal of taking down Hydra—to figure out what the trigger is.

 

It will give Dean something to do, anyway, and it seems important.

 

“Yeah, Cap, we’ll find the solution,” Dean agrees, because it’s Steve, and he doesn’t want to fight, or even argue right now.

 

Although he’s probably doing to have that conversation eventually. He’s not looking forward to it.

 

Dean is fully prepared to go back to work, but then Jarvis announces, “Agent Winchester, you’re needed immediately on the roof. You have a call out.”

 

He grabs his bag with his uniform and jogs out. The Quinjet is on the roof and apparently ready to go, and Dean enters the back hatch to find Clint in the pilot’s seat. “What have we got?”

 

“Initial reports say terrorist, but it’s looking like it’s actually an Inhuman,” Clint says. “The main question is whether they’ve just changed and lost control, or whether it’s on purpose. It’s in Bed-Stuy, but nowhere near the apartment building. We’re taking the jet for speed.”

 

“Who else is going?” Dean asks, beginning to change into his uniform.

 

“You, me, Natasha, and Steve. Tony’s on standby, and Bruce thinks him going is a terrible idea.”

 

“It is a terrible idea,” Dean replies. “Especially in a populated area.”

 

Natasha and Steve show up a minute later, and Clint takes off. Dean sits behind Clint. “Do we have any more information?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, a little,” Clint replies. “Jarvis, pull it up on the screen.”

 

Dean doesn’t recognize the area, but he hasn’t explored the neighborhood as much as he probably should have, and it’s about as far away from his building as you can get and still be in Bed-Stuy. There’s a nearby park where Clint puts the Quinjet down, and the whole trip has taken maybe ten minutes, start to finish.

 

There are police and other emergency responders on the scene, and the ten-story brick building has smoke coming out a number of windows. And then another window explodes out while they’re approaching, and Dean winces.

 

This is definitely not looking good.

 

Dean blows out a breath. “I think I should be the one to go in first.”

 

“This is getting to be a bad habit of yours, Winchester,” Steve says. “You going in first is not always the answer.”

 

“It’s the answer when it’s the right call,” Dean argues. “If it’s really an Inhuman, maybe I can reach them, get them calmed down.”

 

“You’re assuming they’ve lost control, and they’re not doing this on purpose,” Natasha says.

 

“Which is why Clint’s going to be covering us, and you and Steve are going to be right behind me,” Dean replies. “It looks like there’s roof access for you, Widow, and Cap can follow me. Hawkeye, you’ve got tranq darts?”

 

“Always, these days,” Clint replies. “You get them in front of a window, and I can take them out.”

 

Steve is studying the video feed. “Agreed on Hawkeye and Widow’s positions, but we’re going to do better with the element of surprise. Based on that window exploding, I think we can enter on the sixth floor, and then take the stairs up to seven.”  
  


Dean nods, seeing the merits of Steve’s plan. “Yeah, okay. I can see the point of doing a breach that way.”

 

Steve smiles. “I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to put yourself on the line, Dean, but keep in mind that Natasha will probably kill you if you get hurt.”

 

“And if you get killed, I will find someone to resurrect you so I can kill you all over again,” Natasha says.

 

Dean knows she means it, and it’s probably the closest he’s going to come to a declaration of love from her. “Got it.”

 

She gives him a look. “Good.”

 

They hit the ground running. Clint immediately heads for the building across the street, taking the fire escape up, and Natasha heads inside the building. But Steve and Dean have to figure out how best to breach.

 

“Fire escape,” Cap finally says.

 

“That’s why we work out,” Dean says philosophically.

 

Another window explodes, suggesting time is of the essence, and Steve waves him forward. “I’ll watch your back.”

 

Dean scales the ladder easily, and then takes the stairs two at a time. He gets to the sixth floor and makes a silent entry by slipping the window open. The hallway is deserted and lit only by the weak sunlight coming in from the windows on either end.

 

The stairwell is located in the center of the building, and Dean heads that direction. He leaves his weapons holstered, not wanting to scare whoever is causing all the mayhem, and heads up, Steve a silent presence at his back.

 

There’s a woman pacing hovering just outside the door to the stairs, and Dean puts his fingers to his lips. “Do you know who’s causing the problem?”

 

“Bill,” she whispers. “But I don’t know his last name. He’s in 7C.”

 

“Anybody in there with him?” Dean asks.

 

She shakes her head. “His wife left him a few weeks ago, but they have two kids who’ve visited recently.”

 

That’s the last thing Dean wants to hear, that there are kids involved. He’s always had a soft spot for kids.

 

He gestures to Steve. “There might be kids in there with him, so we need another plan.”

 

Steve nods. “What were you thinking?”

 

Dean grins at him. “You knock on the door and take him by surprise, and I’ll worry about the kids.”

 

“And how are you going to do that?” Steve asks skeptically.

 

Dean shrugs. “Well, I saw a ledge that runs along the building. It won’t be fun, but I think I can enter the apartment without being seen if you can give me some time to get out there.”

 

Natasha swears in his ear. “You are not a spider monkey, Dean!”

 

“No, but I can do this, and if it’s too dangerous, I’ll abort,” Dean says.

 

Natasha mutters something in Russian, and Dean is pretty sure it’s something about how he’ll give her gray hair, and she’s going to murder him in his sleep.

 

“Then I’ll make sure not to sleep around you,” he replies in poorly accented Russian. He turns to the neighbor. “Do you know who lives in the apartment next to them?”

 

“It’s empty,” she says.

 

Dean nods. “Good. Then I’ll break in and apologize later. Is there anybody else on this floor?”

 

She shakes her head. “I think they all evacuated. I didn’t want to leave for the children’s sake.”

 

“We’ll take care of this, ma’am,” Steve says. “You can head out.”

 

“Well, if you’re sure,” she says dubiously.

 

Dean nods. “Don’t worry, we’ll do whatever we can.”

 

As soon as she points him to the right apartment, Dean pulls out the lock picks on his utility belt and breaks in as quietly as possible.

 

Dean is familiar with this style of building, since it’s not so different from his own, and he’s confident that the ledge is wide enough to let him get to the target’s window. It won’t be a fun trip, but he’s dealt with worse.

 

There was that one mission with Bobbi Morse where he’d had to free climb a building in freezing temperatures in Eastern Europe. At least the weather is fine today.

 

Dean eases out of the window onto the ledge, which is about four inches wide. There’s not much room for error, but the rough brick of the building gives him something to grab onto, and he begins to scoot along the ledge to the next window.

 

That window has been blown out, and Dean can hear someone muttering as he gets closer. “I never laid a hand on you. That’s what you’re going to say. I can’t go back to jail.”

 

Dean risks a quick peek inside, realizing that he’s going to be entering a kids’ bedroom. There are two beds on either side of the room, with Legos and dolls scattered on the floor. Now that he’s closer, Dean hears whimpers, and his heart clenches in his chest.

 

“I can’t see the kids,” Dean whispers. “But I can hear them, and we need to get them out right away. This guy sounds like he’s about ready to blow.”

 

“I’m on the roof,” Natasha says. “I’ll make entry after you.”

 

“I’m set in the hall,” Steve replies. “I might need a distraction if I can get him to answer the door.”

 

“On it,” Dean says. “Hawkeye, I don’t know that we’re going to get him in front of a window.”

 

“Do your best.”

 

Dean slips inside, and keeps close to the floor as he creeps across the room. At the door of the bedroom, he cautiously looks around, his head only a few feet off the ground. He’s learned that most people don’t look down, which is why kids can stay undetected the way adults can’t.

 

He spots the kids in a corner of the living room. The boy is about 7 or 8, and he’s angled his body to protect the girl, who can’t be more than 4. They’re both crying, but quietly, gulping back sobs, and Dean knows what that means from bitter experience.

 

There’s a woman on the floor in the center of the room, and Dean watches carefully, relief flooding him when he sees her chest rising and falling. Her face is terribly bruised, though, and there’s a bruise on the boy’s cheek.

 

Dean can’t get a good read on the guy’s abilities. Obviously, he’s got them, and he keeps muttering about not touching anybody, and how they’ll have to tell people he didn’t touch them.

 

“I didn’t touch you!” the guy suddenly roars, flinging out a hand. Somehow, that punches a hole in the wall just above the kids’ heads, and Dean realizes that the man is capable of producing kinetic force.

 

The kids scream, and the man yells, “Stop it! I didn’t hurt you!”

 

“Cap, if you’re going to knock on the door, do it now, and I’ll provide the distraction,” Dean says urgently. “This guy is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, and we have two kids and an injured woman. We can’t afford to wait.”

 

“Got it,” Steve says. “Natasha?”

 

“I’ve entered,” Natasha says, and Dean realizes that she’s right behind him. “I’ll take care of the woman.”

 

“Moving now,” Steve says.

 

The boy catches sight of Dean, and his eyes widen slightly. Dean puts a finger to his lips, then taps the Avengers patch on his shoulder.

 

The boy’s jaw firms, and he covers the girl even more with his body.

 

The knock on the door causes the man to startle, and Dean sits tight.

 

“Go away!” the man shouts. “I’m fine.”

 

“My name is Captain Steve Rogers, and I was in the neighborhood,” Cap replies, his voice radiating sincerity. “I heard there was a disturbance, and I need to be sure that everybody is okay in there.”

 

“Go away!”

 

“I can’t do that, sir,” Steve says. “Not without seeing that everybody inside is okay.”

 

The man flings the door open, and Dean blows up the wooden cross hanging next to the door. There’s a good chance of splinters, but Dean doesn’t care.

 

He immediately runs to the kids, covering them, ready to blow something else if necessary, while Natasha does the same for the woman.

 

The exploding cross distracts the man, though, and Steve takes him out with a quick punch to the jaw.

 

“She’s alive,” Natasha says, as soon as it’s clear he’s down for the count. “But she’s going to need immediate medical attention.”

 

“Come on, kiddos,” Dean says. “Let’s get out of here. What are your names?”

 

“I’m Collin, this is Maeve.” Collin gives him a look. “You’re Demo.”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Dean replies. “Look, the medics are going to be all over your mom—that’s your mom, right?” Collin nods. “But how about you guys come hang out with us for a little bit while we get things figured out, huh?”

 

“Yeah!” Collin replies, and Maeve crawls into Dean’s lap.

 

Dean had his first public appearance when he saved Bruce—or tried to save Bruce. He’s had other appearances after that, so his name and image have leaked to the public. There had been a couple of hospital visits with the Avengers, and a few press conferences. There’s grainy video of his first mission in uniform out there, as well as his mission in San Juan, with him in the Avengers’ uniform. He’s pretty sure his role in Sokovia is well known, too.

 

Dean doesn’t think his abilities are known, but his name and codename are out there. Maybe that’s enough.

 

“Come on,” Dean says. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

He walks out of the building with Maeve on one hip and Collin glued to his side. The ambulance approaches as they leave, and paramedics storm up the stairs, since the elevator doesn’t work.

 

Dean gets the kids on the Quinjet, and he has a piece of string, so he teaches them Cat’s Cradle. They pick it up quickly, and are as entertained as he and Sammy had been by the diversion.

 

Clint gets back to the Quinjet and squats down next to the kids. “Hey, guys, your mom has to go to the hospital, but she’s going to be okay. When we know she’s going to be released, we can go get her. Do you live with your dad?”

 

Collin shakes his head. “No, we live with our mom and grandma. We see Dad some weekends.”

 

“Was this the first time something like this happened?” Dean asks.

 

Collin shrugs. “Dad yells sometimes, mostly at Mom. She said that’s why they couldn’t be married anymore.”

 

“Well, your dad is probably going to have to go away for a little while,” Dean says. “He’s developed a new ability, and he has to learn how to control it.”

 

“Is he a supervillain now?” Maeve whispers.

 

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think he is,” Dean says. “He’s just scared and mixed up right now, and he took that out on your mom. We’re going to make sure he doesn’t hurt her or anybody else again.”

 

Collin’s fingers tangle the string, and he sniffs. “I messed it up.”

 

“That’s easily fixed,” Dean replies, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay. Why don’t we call your grandma? Do you know her phone number?”

 

“Mom made me memorize it just in case,” Collin says.

 

Dean pulls out his phone. “Why don’t you type it in for me, and we’ll call her together?” Collin dials the number, and Dean asks, “What’s your grandma’s name?”

 

“Grandma,” Maeve says.

 

Dean chuckles. “All right. I’ll put it on speaker, and you can introduce us so I can tell her what happened. Clint? Which hospital?”

 

“Kingsbrook Jewish,” Clint replies.

 

Dean hits the call button, and hears a woman’s voice answer. “Hello?”

 

“Grandma!” Maeve and Collin say in unison.

 

“Collin? Maeve? Where are you? Are you with your dad? Is everything okay?”

 

Dean decides he needs to take control of the call, and he takes it off speaker. “Ma’am, my name is Dean Winchester. I’m with the Avengers.”

 

“Of course,” she says. “I’ve seen you on the news, but why are my grandchildren with you?”

 

“There was an incident with their dad, and their mom got hurt,” Dean says. “She’s at Kingsbrook Jewish, but she’s going to be fine. We can meet you there with the kids.”

 

She lets out a little sob. “You’re sure she’s going to be okay?”

 

“Yes, ma’am, but their dad’s going away for a little while,” Dean replies. “Here’s Collin.”

 

“Grandma,” Collin says. “We’re okay. The Avengers are awesome!”

 

Dean shares a grin with Clint.

 

“We’re going to turn him over to SHIELD,” Clint murmurs as Collin talks to his grandma with Maeve squeezing in close to him. “I figured you might want to be there.”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, I would, actually. I should probably deliver the news about what happened with the splinter bomb in person.”

 

“He doesn’t know yet?” Clint asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to him, and it seemed like something that shouldn’t be discussed over the phone.”

 

Clint nods. “Makes sense.”

 

Collin hands Dean his phone. “Grandma said she’d meet us at the hospital.”

 

“All right, kids, let’s get going,” Dean says. “Clint, I’ll meet you guys at the Tower, and we can leave from there.”

 

Clint nods. “Got it.”

 

Natasha is standing just outside of the Quinjet. “We sent for a car to take you to the hospital. Tony says he’ll send another for the family to get them home.” She glances at the kids. “I’ll see you back at the Tower.”

 

Dean smirks. “Got it.”

 

Natasha _can_ be good with kids, but he knows she doesn’t really enjoy them the way he does. He gets them into the back of an SUV, and the driver takes them to the hospital. The kids’ mom is resting comfortably in a bed behind a curtain, her face bruised and swollen, but she’s at least relatively alert now.

 

“Hey, guys,” she says with a shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine, Mommy,” Collin says. “I looked after Maeve.”

 

“I know you did, baby,” she replies. “I’m so proud of you. Come here, sweetpea.”

 

Dean puts Maeve in her mom’s arms, not surprised when Maeve starts to cry softly. Collin clambers on the bed and sits next to her. “Thank you so much,” she says to Dean. “I really don’t know how to thank you for what you did for us.”

 

“It was really my pleasure,” Dean replies with a smile. “Your mom should be here any second.”

 

She smiles tremulously. “You called her?”

 

“Seemed like the thing to do,” Dean replies, just as an older woman rushes in.

 

She’s gray-haired and a little plump, wearing well-ironed jeans and an embroidered blouse. She looks like the ideal grandma, and she rushes over to the bed without a glance at Dean. “Oh, look at you! You poor thing. And my babies!”

 

Dean is retreating from the room when she turns to him. “And you’re Agent Winchester!”

 

Dean freezes. He really doesn’t have much experience with grandmothers. “Uh, hi.”

 

She walks right up to him, and Dean watches her warily. She hugs him tightly, and Dean pats her on the back. “Nice to meet you, too.”

 

“You’re coming over for dinner,” she announces. “I have your number now, young man.”

 

Dean blinks. “Well, it wasn’t just me.”

 

“Yes, you can bring your friends, too, just let me know how many are coming, and how much they’ll eat.” She pats him on the cheek. “Thank you for looking after my grandkids.”

 

“My pleasure,” Dean replies, having had about as much gratitude as he can take. “I should get going.”

 

“Don’t forget about dinner!” Grandma calls after him, and Dean realizes that he still doesn’t know her name.

 

He’ll have to ask her if she does decide to call him.

 

Dean finds a car waiting for him when he leaves the hospital, and he spots Happy behind the wheel. “I didn’t know you were in town, Happy,” Dean says.

 

Happy shrugs. “I got in this morning, and when I heard you might need a ride, I offered. How are you doing, Agent Winchester?”

 

“Pretty good,” Dean replies. “Everybody get back to the Tower safely?”

 

“Sure.” Happy glances over his shoulder. “They’re all fine, and Agent Barton hit the bad guy with one of those tranqs. He should be out until you can get him to SHIELD.”

 

Dean nods. “Good. Less trouble for us, then.”

 

He’s still thinking about the kids when Happy pulls into the garage under the Tower. “Have a good one, Agent Winchester.”

 

“You, too,” Dean replies. “Thanks for the ride.”

 

He finds Natasha waiting for him. “Steve and Clint will help you deliver our miscreant. I have another mission.”

 

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Anything you want to tell me about?”

 

“I’m running a lead down,” Natasha replies. “I’m a little worried about the Winter Soldier.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “Are you reading my mind now?”

 

“No, I’m just a step or two ahead of you at all times,” Natasha replies, and gives him a quick kiss. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

 

“Never,” Dean replies. “You’re my favorite partner in crime.”

 

He heads out to the Quinjet and sees their bad guy trussed up and unconscious, with Steve keeping a close eye on him, and Clint in the co-pilot’s seat. “You’re driving, Dean,” Clint says.

 

Dean slides into the pilot’s seat. “Off we go, I guess.”

 

“You okay?” Clint asks.

 

“I just feel bad for those kids, that’s all,” Dean replies. “They saw their dad turn into something horrible, and their mom paid the price.”

 

“Or maybe he was horrible before now, and this is nothing new, other than his powers,” Steve says. “Did you figure out what they were?”

 

“He can throw off some kind of kinetic force,” Dean replies. “He flings his hands around, and holes appear in the walls. He kept saying that he hadn’t laid a finger on her.”

 

“Good bet that he wanted to,” Clint comments.

 

Dean grimaces. “Yeah, that’s a sure bet. My guess is the mom left before he could.” He laughs. “I didn’t even get their names.”

 

“Moira O’Donnell,” Steve says. “Her mom is Sylvia. Dad is Brian Carsten. Tony had Jarvis find out so we could keep an eye on them.”

 

“The grandma asked me to come over for dinner,” Dean admits. “Well, ordered, more like. She said I could bring friends.”

 

“Making friends and influencing people,” Clint teases. “Nice.”

 

Dean shrugs it off. “Yeah, well, my last experience with grandmothers was with my old team. Scooter had a couple, and they seemed to like me okay.”

 

“Don’t front, Winchester,” Clint says. “Little old ladies love you. You picked that one up in Chechnya.”

 

“I didn’t _pick her up_ ,” Dean protests. “She liked me for her granddaughter!”

 

“My point exactly!” Clint replies.

 

Steve laughs. “You really are a lady killer, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m really just a guy doing my job,” Dean replies.

 

“Which the ladies love,” Clint says. “If Natasha ever gets tired of you, you’ll have a fallback option.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t try to argue, since he knows that will just mean more teasing. “When she invites me, I’m dragging you guys along.”

 

“Homemade meal? I’m there,” Clint says.

 

Dean thinks about those kids, and he wonders how their dad had been exposed, and whether he should warn them.

 

“We’re about five minutes out,” Dean says in a little while. “We have clearance.”

 

They land, and there are a couple of SHIELD agents waiting to take custody of Carsten, and they carry him off the plane.

 

Coulson is also there to greet them. “Good to see all of you. What can you tell me about our guest?”

 

“He’s got powers, not sure why,” Dean replies, shaking Coulson’s hand. “And we’re pretty sure he’s an abusive asshole, FYI.”

 

Skye grimaces. “Figures. We find an Inhuman who hasn’t come to the attention of the ATCU, and it turns out he’s an asshole.”

 

“You might want to put him on ice,” Clint says. “He wasn’t interested in coming quietly.”

 

“Deal,” Skye says. “We have an empty cell waiting for him.”

 

“Come on through to my office,” Coulson says. “I gather you have some news for me.”

 

“Skye should be there, too,” Dean says. “What I have to say concerns her.”

 

Skye hesitates. “It’s Daisy, actually. I go by Daisy Johnson now.”

 

Dean blinks. “Right, okay. Daisy. I’ll try to remember that. Apologies in advance if I use the wrong name.”

 

She offers a smile. “I think everybody is still getting used to it. I won’t take offense.”

 

That’s a far sight more congenial than she’s been with him to date, and Dean wonders what’s happened in the meantime. He doesn’t think she knows that he has powers, even though he’s pretty sure she does.

 

Well, he knows she does. He knew even before he had confirmation. Dean is pretty sure he’d recognize anybody with the same kind of powers he has.

 

In a way, that makes them kin.

 

Coulson leads the way into his office, and he says, “Can I get you all something to drink?”

 

“Water would be good,” Dean replies. He hasn’t used his powers all that much, but he remembers the lessons of Sokovia all too well, and he’s not about to collapse again. “Thanks.”

 

“Same for me,” Steve says, and Clint echoes him.

 

“What did you have to tell me?” Coulson asks, handing cold bottles of water all around.

 

“Some Hydra asshole threw a splinter bomb into an Avengers’ meeting,” Dean replies. “After what happened in San Juan, I figured I’d probably survive. I did.”

 

Skye—Daisy—blinks. “Wait, you’re—oh. Of course. What can you do?”

 

“I’ll show my cards if you show yours,” Dean counters.

 

The ground shakes briefly, and Dean inclines his head, since that’s pretty much what he expected. He puts his half-full bottle of water on the table across the room, and focuses on it. His abilities are mostly under control at this point, at least when he’s not under emotional duress, and the water bottle explodes without leaving residue or sending water anywhere.

 

“Holy shit,” Skye—Daisy—says. “Dammit! It would just figure that the next Inhuman we encountered would be an Avenger.”

 

Dean blinks, wondering if he should be insulted. “Okay?”

 

“I’m building a team,” Daisy says. “But you’re on someone else’s team already, and it seems rude to poach. So. Right. Welcome to the club?”

 

Clint snorts. “You’d have to go through us first.”

 

Dean gives him a look. “I’d be happier if there were a few more cool perks in this club, but thanks.”

 

“I take it the Avengers are looking after you,” Coulson says.

 

Steve nods. “We look after each other.”

 

“It’s probably not a bad thing, you being an Avenger,” Daisy says, almost as though she’s consoling herself. “The ATCU won’t be after you most likely.”

 

“I was going to ask you what you knew about them,” Steve says.

 

“Not as much as we should,” Coulson replies. “We’ve been working around them as much as possible. I take it that you’re not ready to go public with your status, Dean.”

 

Dean shrugs. “Everybody knows my specialty in the Rangers was demolition. That’s part of the revised bio that got released a few months back, when my position with the Avengers became obvious.”

 

“So, you keep the fiction that it’s all explosives,” Coulson says.

 

Dean shrugs. “Sometimes it’s better to be underestimated.”

 

“Agreed,” Daisy replies. “I think it’s smart.”

 

It’s probably the nicest thing she’s said to him. “Are you worried about the ATCU?” Dean asks.

 

“A little,” Coulson replies. “They’re legitimate, and we’re not. We’re going to try to broker a deal with them.”

 

“I don’t think we can get involved,” Steve says, sounding a little regretful. “The Avengers need the appearance of neutrality in a situation like this one.”

 

Coulson nods. “No, I agree. There’s no sense putting Dean on the ATCU’s radar.”

 

Daisy clears her throat. “I wouldn’t mind picking your brain, Dean. If you don’t mind.”

 

“No, not at all,” Dean replies.

 

“I’ll give you guys the nickel tour,” Coulson says. “Daisy, feel free to use my office.”

 

“Thanks,” Daisy says.

 

Dean shares a look with Clint and Steve as they leave, but settles a little more comfortably in his chair. “What’s up?”

 

“I’m trying to build a team, but I haven’t had a lot of luck,” Daisy admits. “We haven’t had a lot of luck recruiting.”

 

Dean leans back. “Having superpowers doesn’t make you a superhero.”

 

Daisy frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“Just what I said,” Dean replies. “What you’re asking people to do, to join SHIELD and fight bad guys, not everybody is cut out for it. I signed up to do that when I was eighteen. You wanted this life. Other people, normal people, they’ll develop superpowers, and all they’ll want to do is to go back to their old lives.”

 

Daisy runs a hand through her hair. “So, it’s going to be a little more complicated than just finding Inhumans.”

 

“I think you can bet on that,” Dean replies. “Look, you can’t just look for people with superpowers. You have to look for the people who will be the right fit, because this life will break anybody else.”

 

Daisy nods. “Yeah, you make a good point.”

 

“How are you doing?” Dean asks.

 

“Well, you know, family is complicated,” she replies, wincing. “I’ve been trying to focus on work instead.” She hesitates. “I don’t know if anybody has told you this, or if it matters to you, but this seems to run in families. My mom was Inhuman, and I am, too.”

 

Dean nods. “I have a younger brother, but we aren’t on speaking terms right now. Although, I guess if you see him, his name is Sam Winchester. Maybe you could let me know.”

 

“Sure,” Daisy replies. “I know—I know how hard it can be.”

 

She doesn’t offer more details, but Dean can see from her expression that she probably knows better than just about anybody else in his life. “Look, I know I’m probably your last call, but if you want to talk—I haven’t build a team of Inhumans, but I have led teams before.”

 

Daisy smiles at him. “You know, I’m probably going to take you up on that offer, and I’ll be super annoying.”

 

Dean chuckles. “You couldn’t be more annoying than the idiot first lieutenant I had to break in.”

 

She leans in. “Tell me.”

 

Thirty minutes later, when the others rejoin them, they’re still swapping war stories, and Dean realizes that he likes her a lot. She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders and a hell of a lot of baggage.

 

He figures Coulson would have said much the same thing about him at one point.

 

“We have to go,” Steve says.

 

Dean offers his hand to Daisy, and she responds by pulling him into a hug. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re going to do great,” Dean tells her, because every new leader needs to hear that.

 

“You, too,” she replies. “And I’ll keep an eye out for your brother, just in case.”

 

Dean pats her on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

 

“Of course,” Daisy says. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

 

“I’ll do the same,” Dean offers.

 

Maybe he’s doing the same thing he’s always done, trying to form a family to fill the vacuum in his chest, and Daisy is like him. Chances are good that they probably shared an ancestor at some point, and they’re facing the same hurdles.

 

“I’m sorry for being a bitch before,” Daisy says.

 

Dean smiles. “Were you? I wouldn’t have said that.”

 

Daisy laughs. “Take care of yourself, Agent Winchester.”

 

“You, too, Agent Johnson,” Dean replies.

 

Coulson is standing next to the Quinjet when they approach, and he holds out a hand, then pulls Dean into a hug. “Take care of yourself, Dean. I’m proud of you.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean says.

 

Hearing Coulson say that isn’t going to get old any time soon, especially after the thing with Sam, and Bobby’s visit. The important people in his life are proud of him, and respect him. They understand what he’s been through, and what he’s lost.

 

Sometimes it seems like too much. Most of the time, he thinks it’s worth it.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean has found a new normal at this point. He has training and research, and a lot of control over his own schedule and priorities. That means he can focus on certain aspects of his research without clearing it with anybody else.

 

He has a pretty good handle on the others’ weaknesses and soft spots. Part of his job in the Rangers as the leader of the team had been to know those things. As the Avengers’ liaison, that had also been the case.

 

And now, as a member of the team, Dean feels the same need.

 

He has a pretty good handle on everybody on his team, other than Steve. He’s pretty sure that Barnes is going to be a problem, but not how much of one, or whether there’s a solution.

 

The problem is that Pierce had been a canny motherfucker, and he had kept most of his secrets offline. Barnes hadn’t been a strictly Hydra tool, but a Russian one, coopted by Hydra later.

 

Pierce had the recipe for Barnes’ trigger, but Dean can find no record of it. The level of brainwashing he experienced means that it’s going to take a lot to undo it, more than just the stalwart presence of Barnes’ BFF.

 

Times like these, Dean wishes he could resurrect someone. He’d bring Pierce back, force him to talk, and then figure out how to detrigger Barnes. Or find someone who could.

 

“What are you working on?” Natasha asks, poking her head into the space Dean’s staked out for his office.

 

“Hey, you’re back,” Dean replies. “How did things go?”

 

“Fine.” Natasha gives him a look. “So?”

 

“Researching James Buchanan Barnes,” Dean replies. “He worries me.”

 

Natasha nods. “He’s a weakness.”

 

Dean is relieved that she agrees with his assessment. “Steve wouldn’t agree.”

 

“Steve is compromised when it comes to Barnes,” Natasha counters. “He can’t be relied upon to provide an objective opinion. Have you found anything?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “He was a Russian tool before Hydra used him, and Pierce was smart enough to keep that information offline.”

 

Natasha grimaces. “Are you planning on keeping this quiet?”

 

“Can you see Steve responding well?” Dean asks.

 

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t, although you or I will have to talk to him about this eventually.”

 

“Do you have a lead on Barnes’ location?”

 

“Eastern Europe,” Natasha replies. “Most likely Romania. It’s familiar territory for him, and there have been a few sightings.”

 

“No confirmation?”

 

“I didn’t want to spook him,” Natasha replies. “If we know where he is, we can find him quickly, at least in theory.”

 

Dean nods. “Agreed. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

 

“We usually are, assuming you’re not being stupidly self-sacrificing,” Natasha says pleasantly. “I think you should wait for a bit to talk to Steve.”

 

“Agreed,” Dean replies. “And isn’t that going to be a fun conversation?”

 

“I have faith in you,” Natasha replies.

 

Dean snorts. “Right. I see this is going to be on me.”

 

“You have something in common with him,” Natasha points out. “You understand what to do with a weakness.”

 

“Sam doesn’t count.”

 

“Of course he does,” Natasha says impatiently. “You could have tried forcing the issue, and that might have resulted in explosions. You didn’t.”

 

Dean shrugs. “And I’ve been doing without Sam for a long time, Nat. Steve doesn’t have the same luxury of distance that I did.”

 

She regards him thoughtfully. “But you did think you were rebuilding a relationship, _luchik_. Steve lost his friend, and maybe he hadn’t fully grieved that loss, but he didn’t have the same hope you had.”

 

That wound is still fresh in Dean’s mind, and he inclines his head, since it’s true enough.

 

“Has he called you again?” she asks.

 

Dean snorts. “Not even Sam is that stupid. You really liked Bobby, though, huh?”

 

“Your uncle is a treasure,” she replies. “We should visit him sometime.”

 

Dean grins. “Yeah, okay.”

 

He’s helplessly, hopelessly in love with her, and he can’t say the words, but he thinks it. Maybe she understands, because she kisses him deeply. “Take a break, Dean. I’ve missed you, and we don’t have training this afternoon.”

 

And, of course, Dean follows.

 

~~~~~

 

Back in 2001 when the Towers fell, Dean had received a crash course on geopolitical forces. Knowing which way the winds of politics were blowing as a Ranger gave him an idea where he might be heading next. Dean found that understanding the forces at play made him better at his job, and knowing how to respond to certain situations.

 

When he joined SHIELD, that was even truer; when he became an Avenger, and with SHIELD’s fall, he knew he had to keep an eye on things.

 

The ATCU worries him, and so do the Watchdogs. He worries that things are changing.

 

It’s called the Alien _Threat_ Containment Unit, after all, and SHIELD has been labeled a terrorist organization.

 

And then the thing in Berlin happens.

 

The Inhuman they’d apprehended in New York disappears into SHIELD’s custody, but Dean knows that the ATCU is responding to most of the activations in the US. They covered for the guy in New York by saying that it was a terrorist attack, but Berlin is different. Berlin is outside the authority of the ATCU.

 

Besides, no one is going to cover up Berlin.

 

It’s a rare day when they’re all training together, everyone other than Bruce. Tony doesn’t participate often, but Steve has been on his case, and insisting that he join them.

 

Dean figures that Steve can see the changes coming like he can. And a team that trains together, stays together, or at least that’s the idea.

 

They’re in the middle of a scenario with Dean mostly focusing on retaining control—losing control in the field is inadvisable for multiple reasons right now—when Bruce essentially pulls an emergency stop.

 

“Jarvis, bring up the footage,” Bruce orders. “Sorry, guys, but this is important.”

 

They all pause, sweaty and flushed, and Jarvis projects the footage in the center of the room. It’s pretty horrific. There’s a young man in the middle of Alexanderplatz, the rain pouring down on him, lightning striking jagged across the sky and hitting anybody who approaches. It’s not just first responders, but passersby, too.

 

The news anchor says, “We have twenty-two reported dead, including at least four children. So far, no one has been able to get close enough to disable him, but we will keep you up to date.”

 

“Is there any way we can get there fast?” Steve asks, sounding a little despairing.

 

“I could be there in perhaps an hour,” Thor replies, but he sounds uncertain.

 

Dean shakes his head. “It’s not gonna be necessary. You see those guys on the perimeter? That’s the GSG 9, the German equivalent of SWAT. They’re not going to need to get close to him.”

 

His prediction is proven correct moments later when the fireworks abruptly stop, a bullet hole appearing between the young man’s eyes. Dean looks away from the screen, feeling a little sick.

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks him.

 

Dean shakes his head. “No, not really. I, uh, I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll be back later.”

 

He doesn’t wait for Steve’s permission, tacit or otherwise, just flees the room and the picture of the boy with the bullet in his head.

 

That boy might have been acting deliberately, or maybe he was just a scared kid who lost control, but he’s still dead, and he’s just put Inhumans on the world stage.

 

Dean showers, and is grateful when the steam obscures the mirror, and he can’t see his reflection. His hair is longer than he normally allows it to get, and he needs a haircut.

 

He needs to get a grip.

 

When he exits the bathroom, he finds Natasha waiting for him. She doesn’t ask if he’s okay, she just looks at him in silence.

 

“He was just a kid,” Dean says.

 

Natasha nods. “There’s no word on whether he was acting deliberately.”

 

Dean thinks it’s very like her to understand what information he needs. “We might never know,” he points out.

 

“Do you want me to find out?” she offers.

 

“Does it really make any difference?” Dean asks. “You had an Inhuman in Berlin who killed a bunch of people. Whether he lost control or not, the result is the same.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Natasha says.

 

“I know that,” Dean replies impatiently. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

 

She stands up. “Come on. Bruce is cooking something, and he wants your help.”

 

Cooking sounds good to Dean. He could use the opportunity to get out of his own head, and being in the kitchen grounds him.

 

Bruce gives him a sympathetic look when Dean enters the kitchen. “I was thinking something complicated. You have any ideas?”

 

“You do the vegetable korma, and I’ll do the butter chicken,” Dean replies. “We can do naan while they’re cooking.”

 

Bruce nods agreeably. “Sure. You know, this doesn’t necessarily change anything, Dean.”

 

“This one event, maybe not,” Dean replies.

 

Bruce begins pulling spices out of the cupboard. “I’m keeping an eye on things myself. I don’t like what I’m seeing from the likely candidates.”

 

Dean grimaces. “I hate election years.”

 

“You and me both,” Bruce replies. “But I think this is one year where we’re both going to need to pay very close attention.”

 

There’s a part of Dean that’s relieved both Natasha and Bruce understand the implications of Inhumans losing control that publicly. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

Bruce pauses in the midst of chopping carrots. “Sure, although I can’t promise to answer.”

 

“When the transformation changed you, you didn’t stick around,” Dean says. “Why?”

 

Bruce looks away. “Because the man in charge of the project, General Ross, wanted to use me as a weapon, and I didn’t want to be used.”

 

“Where’s Ross today?” Dean asks. “I assume you keep an eye on him.”

 

“I do,” Bruce admits. He hesitates. “He lost a lot of credibility after the thing in Harlem, and he retired. Last I heard, he was making a name for himself in politics.”

 

“Is he still interested in making weapons?” Dean asks.

 

“Near as I can tell, he’s never stopped,” Bruce replies. “And there are plenty of people out there who are going to see Inhumans as weapons or tools, to be used or feared.”

 

“That’s kind of what worries me,” Dean says. “I’m not going to be used as a weapon, Bruce. I won’t let that happen.”

 

“I think we can both agree on that much,” Bruce replies. “I have no intention of being used either.”

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

 

He can take precautions, put certain safeguards into place, things he hasn’t worried about since he was a SHIELD agent taking dangerous assignments. Those lessons never really leave a person, though, not when it’s someone like Dean.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean still isn’t any closer to getting any clarity on Barnes when he gets the message from SHIELD about a potential Hydra base. “We have our hands full here,” Melinda says.

 

“How is Skye—I mean Daisy—doing? She said she was trying to build a team,” Dean replies.

 

“Ask her yourself,” Melinda replies. “I’ll let her fill you in on the details.”

 

She gets off the screen, and Daisy takes her place. “Hey, Dean.”

 

“I hear you’ve got a problem for me to solve,” Dean replies.

 

“It’s probably going to require a three to four person team,” Daisy says. “It’s the remnants of Strucker’s empire, as near as we can tell, and they have _a lot_ of weapons.”

 

Dean nods. “Well, that sounds like my kind of mission. You got a briefing for me?”

 

“I’m sending it now,” Daisy replies. “You should have everything you need.”

 

“How’s the team building going?”

 

She shrugs. “Okay. I’ve got a couple of people, but it’s slow going.”

 

“It can take a long time for a team to gel,” Dean says. “You work together, but don’t forget to play together, too. You might think you don’t have time, but it’s important.”

 

“Find time for fun, got it,” Daisy replies. “Anything else?”

 

“When you’re a leader, sometimes you need to keep yourself apart from everybody else,” Dean says. “But when you’re a member of the team, they need to know you’re human.”

 

“Or Inhuman,” Daisy counters.

 

“Same principal applies.” Dean glances down and sees that the data package has come through. “Okay, I’ve got the briefing. Any other questions you want to ask?”

 

“What if you’ve got someone who doesn’t want to be in this line of work, but doesn’t have any other choice?” she asks.

 

Dean scrubs his hands over his face. “That _is_ a tough one. I worked with some guys who just lost the heart to do the job. Best advice I can give, shelter them as much as you can. You don’t want them getting themselves or anybody else killed.” He pauses. “How bad are things looking with the ATCU?”

 

“There’s something funky going on there,” Daisy replies. “But we’re getting to the bottom of it.”

 

“Good luck,” Dean replies. “And let me know if you have any other questions.”

 

“Good luck to you, too,” she replies and ends the call.

 

Dean reviews the briefing she sent and quickly makes an assessment as to what and who he’s going to need. Daisy’s assessment—or maybe it was May’s—is spot on. They need a small strike force, much like the one Dean was on while in the Rangers. The stash is in Romania, and Dean has been there before. He suspects that’s how Hydra got their hands on Barnes, and he wonders if he should take a side trip while he’s there, and if he did, whether he could hide it from the rest of the team.

 

Or, if not the rest of the team, at least from Steve, just until Dean has a few answers.

 

Dean pages Natasha first. He’s already thinking two steps ahead, and they’ll probably need Clint and Steve as well. But he wants to run his plan by Natasha first.

 

She turns up in a few minutes. “What’s up?”

 

“SHIELD has a Hydra base they want us to take care of,” Dean says. “Three to four people, and it’s in Romania, which means we could also do some digging on Barnes.”

 

“Do you think that’s wise?” she asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “Maybe not, but I think we need to. I haven’t found anything that would explain his trigger, and I think we should keep looking. If we exhaust all avenues, at least we can tell Cap that.”

 

Natasha inclines her head. “And what will we tell them of our plans?”

 

“Romantic weekend away?” Dean suggests. “We’re due, and we both know the area.”

 

Natasha laughs. “It’s a good cover.”

 

“Nat, there isn’t anything about this guy you want to tell me, is there?” Dean asks. “Nothing we need to know?”

 

“Nothing that isn’t best left in the past,” Natasha says firmly.

 

He frowns. “What does that mean?”

 

“The Winter Soldier—he left a trail of bodies behind,” Natasha replies. “Let that suffice.”

 

Dean senses that there’s more she’s not telling him, but he has no way to force the information out of her, and he knows Natasha. She won’t divulge information until she’s good and ready.

 

But what she said, about the bodies, that causes a faint alarm in Dean’s mind, and he files that away for later. Maybe he can’t find Barnes’ trigger, but he might be able to track the bodies Barnes left in his wake, and if he can do that, maybe he can trace Barnes’ steps to the beginning.

 

It’s something, it’s a direction.

 

“So, what do you think?” Dean asks.

 

“I think it’s a date,” Natasha replies.

 

He lets out a breath. “Okay, then, I’ll call Clint and Steve. We’ll make it a party.”

 

“You have an interesting definition of a party,” Natasha tells him.

 

Dean grins. “Well, I was a Ranger.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Steve and Clint to arrive, and Dean quickly briefs them. “Natasha and I have an errand to run afterwards, but we thought we could take out the Hydra base together.”

 

“I’m down,” Clint says easily. “Killing Hydra goons is my favorite thing.”

 

Steve shrugs. “Yes, of course. Taking out Hydra is part of our mission statement.”

 

Dean rubs his hands together. “Great. Let’s go do that, then.”

 

They move quickly to get what they need, to get supplies and weapons loaded on the Quinjet. Bruce and Tony wander up while Dean is checking weapons, and Tony asks, “Anything we can do?”

 

“Hydra weapons cache, and we’re going to blow it up at Director Coulson’s request,” Dean replies. “We’ve got this. It’s just a small strike team.”

 

Bruce gives Dean a look, like he knows there’s more to it than that. “Be careful.”

 

“Always, Doc,” Dean replies. “We’ll be back in a few days. Don’t get into too much trouble without us.”

 

Bruce gives him a look. “I’ll find a way to keep us occupied without getting into trouble.”

 

Tony loops an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “I could think of a few things we can do.”

 

Dean holds up his hands. “I don’t want to know.”

 

“Like you and Natasha don’t have X-rated adventures,” Tony replies.

 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Dean replies. “I’m a gentleman.”

 

They take the Quinjet in stealth mode, landing outside Bucharest. “At least it’s not Budapest,” Clint remarks.

 

“True,” Natasha replies. “Still, we need to be careful. We can’t afford bad press, not with the way the political winds are blowing.”

 

Steve nods. “Agreed. Demo, you’re with me. Hawkeye, you’re with Widow. We’re going to take out the weapons while you two cover us.”

 

SHIELD’s briefing was comprehensive, including the location of the weapons and a basic blueprint of the base, so it’s easy enough to locate the cache. Clint and Natasha clear the perimeter in advance, and he and Steve go in silently.

 

In theory, it’s a simple mission, but like most missions, it all goes to hell upon the first engagement. If the weapons had been guns and standard grenades and bombs, it would have been one thing, but what they find are splinter bombs and weapons that are decidedly non-standard.

 

“Hydra weapons,” Steve growls. “We can’t leave them here.”

 

“We can’t just blow them up either,” Dean points out. “If the residue gets out, it could have some seriously bad side effects.”

 

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, you’re right. Shit, we don’t have any way to transport this much stuff.”

 

“I have an idea,” Dean says, and calls Bruce and Tony. “We have a bunch of Hydra weapons that I can’t just blow, but we can’t leave them either,” he says when Bruce picks up.

 

“You could say hello,” Bruce counters. “Is time of the essence?”

 

Dean sighs. “No, that’s me being in mission mode. Sorry, Bruce.”

 

“I’m putting you on speaker,” Bruce replies. “Tony, we have an engineering question.”

 

“I am at your disposal,” Tony promises grandly. “What can I do for you?”

 

Dean quickly sketches out the situation. “Can you walk me through building a force field?” he jokes.

 

“Actually, that might be doable,” Tony muses. “Your degree is in engineering, right?”

 

Dean blinks. “Uh, yes? I mean, chemical engineering, but yes.”

 

“Winchester, you are full of surprises,” Tony declares. “Okay, look around. If you have the tools, you can build it, at least in theory. I suggest getting samples of everything, though. We need exemplars. It might let us develop a plan for defending against them in the future.”

 

Dean nods. “Got it. We can get a crate to go.”

 

“Okay, this is what you’re looking for,” Tony begins.

 

Dean puts the phone on speaker and tucks it in a pocket of his uniform that seems built for just that purpose. Knowing Bruce and Tony, it probably was. “Okay. Go for it.”

 

Tony starts listing off items, and Dean starts to tear the place apart looking for the necessary elements.

 

“I’m not finding a fuse of that voltage,” Dean says. “Can I use a lower rated one?”

 

“It’s going to short out that much faster,” Tony says.

 

“How long do you think I’ll have with a lower MVA?” Dean asks.

 

Tony hesitates. “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t count on more than a minute.”

 

Dean winces. “So, I’ll have to blow everything and hope the residue dies down in that period of time.”

 

“It’s not ideal,” Tony agrees. “Although—you can find one on the Quinjet. There are a couple of redundancies in the climate control system. If you remove one and the other fails, it’ll just mean a really cold flight home.”

 

Dean considers the risks and makes the call. “Yeah, let’s do that. We don’t need the residue going anywhere. Clint, I’ll walk you through it. Natasha, you still good?”

 

“We’re fine,” she replies. “Clint is clear to assist.”

 

“Be there in a sec,” Clint says. “I’m halfway back to the Quinjet.”

 

“You sure you’re okay on the perimeter?” Steve asks her.

 

Natasha sniffs. “Please.”

 

Dean smirks. “Pretty sure that Natasha could take out the entirety of Hydra with a paperclip.”

 

“With the proper motivation,” she confirms. “Don’t worry, Cap. I’ll let you know if I need your assistance.”

 

Clint says, “Okay, I’m at the Quinjet. Where am I going, Demo?”

 

Dean directs him to the control panel at the back. “You’ll see the fuses there,” he says. “The one you want is the second from the bottom on the left. Remove it carefully.”

 

“Got it,” Clint says after a few seconds. “Heading your way now.”

 

When Clint arrives with the part, Dean grins. “Great. It shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes.”

 

“You understand what Tony wants you to do?” Steve asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “Sure, the basics. I knew I wanted to do engineering, but I was torn between mechanical, electrical, and chemical. In the end, given my specialty, I went with chem-e, but I never lost my interest in how things work.”

 

“Plus, he’s been spending a tone of time with me and Bruce,” Tony points out. “He’s a smart cookie, he was bound to pick a few things up.”

 

Dean snorts. “That’s one way to put it, when you’re both talking science at me more often than not. It’s self-defense as much as anything else. Okay, all parts are assembled. Walk me through this.”

 

If he allowed himself to think about what he’s doing—Iron Man is walking him through building a force field so he can blow up a bunch of Hydra weapons _with his mind_ —he would probably freeze in his tracks. If the Rangers and SHIELD taught him anything, though, it’s when not to overthink things.

 

The important thing is to get it done, and make sure that Hydra can’t use the weapons.

 

“You got those samples boxed up?” Dean asks when the force field is complete.

 

“I sent them back to the Quinjet with Hawkeye,” Cap replies. “We’re good.”

 

Dean nods. “All right, time to see if this is going to work, or if we’ll need to go to plan B.”

 

“What’s plan B?” Clint asks over coms.

 

“Hell if I know,” Dean admits. “You want to sling your shield to see if the force field will hold, Cap?”

 

Steve gives the room a dubious look. “And if it doesn’t work and I hit something?”

 

“All the weapons have to be activated,” Dean replies. “If you hit something, you’ll knock it over, and that’s about it.”

 

Cap shrugs, trusting Dean’s assessment, and throws his shield like a Frisbee. Dean has apparently done his job well, because it bounces off and flies right back onto Cap’s arm.

 

“Good to go,” Dean says. “You guys should probably keep a safe distance.”

 

Cap frowns at him. “How dangerous is this for you?”

 

“You know me,” Dean says. “Things tend to explode around me, but I stay untouched.”

 

There’s a beat, and Cap nods. “Okay, we’ll wait for you.”

 

Dean knows his gift well enough at this point that he has a pretty good idea how he’s going to do this. Splinter bombs are first, and he targets those crates. Seeing them blow up is immensely satisfying, and once the residue settles, he starts blowing the rest of them one by one so as not to stress the force field too much.

 

Once that’s done, Dean powers down the force field and grabs it. It’s too big to carry into the field with him, but they should probably keep one on the Quinjet. Dean wonders if there’s a way to miniaturize one so he could carry it with him, just in case his control slips.

 

“We’re good,” Dean announces. “Cap, should I blow the compound?”

 

“No, we’ll leave a monitor, see if anybody comes back,” Steve replies. “We might be able to trap a few Hydra agents that way.”

 

“Sounds good,” Dean says, jogging out to meet them at the Quinjet.

 

And that’s another mission accomplished.

 

~~~~~

 

“We should go on missions together all the time,” Dean says. The hotel they’re staying at in Budapest is one of the nicest in the city. They’re flying under the radar, but as a honeymooning couple, which makes for a nice change of pace.

 

Natasha smirks at him. “Don’t get distracted, Dean.”

 

“Well, I’ll admit you’re very distracting, but I think I can handle it,” Dean replies. “Where do you want to start?”

 

“Last known sighting,” she replies. “But let’s try not to be recognized.”

 

“Agreed,” Dean says and tugs on a baseball cap.

 

It’s a bright and sunny day, and feeling greatly daring, Dean slings an arm across Natasha’s shoulders. She responds by leaning into him as they stroll through the open-air market where her sources had last placed Barnes.

 

They wander, seemingly aimlessly, but actually moving in a grid pattern. The market is a popular destination for tourists and residents alike, so it’s easy enough to blend in.

 

“There,” Natasha murmurs after they’ve been wandering for a couple of hours.

 

Dean spots him at nearly the same time. “What’s he buying?”

 

“Looks like oranges,” Natasha replies.

 

“He seems well adjusted enough,” Dean comments. “I mean, he’s buying fruit.”

 

Natasha gives him a look. “You know full well that looks can be deceiving.”

 

“I do, and I suspect that the trigger isn’t a magic word,” Dean replies. “It would have to be more complicated than that to offer any kind of control. You think he’d tell us where we could find his instruction manual?”

 

“Probably not,” Natasha replies. “And I wouldn’t either. I wouldn’t hand that information out to anyone I didn’t trust, and he has no reason to trust us.”

 

Dean inclines his head. “Fair enough. You want to follow him?”

 

“We can’t afford to tip him off, not when we’ve just found him,” Natasha replies.

 

Dean knows what’s coming next. “All right, you follow him, then. I’ll meet back up with you at the hotel.”

 

Natasha smirks. “It’s like you really get me.”

 

“I know your skill set,” Dean replies. “And I’m mature enough to admit when you’re better at something than I am.”

 

“I’ve always liked that about you,” Natasha replies. “See you later.”

 

“Be careful,” Dean returns.

 

He’s been in Budapest before, and he likes the city. He’s had some rough encounters here, but he’s playing tourist now, and he’s always admired its old world charm. There’s the wide river and the delicate-looking bridges and the parliament building.

 

Dean wanders along the river for a while, figuring that Natasha won’t be back to the hotel in a few hours, so he has some time. These days, it’s not often he gets a chance just to wander, unrecognized, with no mission at the end of it.

 

When he finally arrives back at the hotel, Natasha has beaten him there. “Enjoy your walk?”

 

“I did,” Dean admits. “But you already knew that.”

 

She shrugs. “I found you, but you looked like you were having a nice time.”

 

“It would have been nicer if you were there,” Dean counters.

 

She smiles. “You say the sweetest things.”

 

“I mean them.”

 

“That’s why they’re sweet,” Natasha replies. “I’m more used to people who lie to me to get what they want. You’ve always been refreshingly honest.”

 

“I guess that’s a little strange in our line of work,” Dean says.

 

“Different, maybe,” Natasha says. “For the record, Barnes lives in a very ordinary apartment building. He left for a little while, and I broke in briefly to see if there was any indication of where he might have hailed from.”

 

“Anything?” Dean asks, stifling the urge to ask if she’d been careful. It’s Natasha, so of course she had left no trace of herself behind.

 

“Nothing,” Natasha replies. “The place could have belonged to anyone.”

 

“Dead end?”

 

“Not entirely,” Natasha says. “I have one other avenue to try. There’s someone in town I knew from the old days, but he’s not going to help without a lot of persuasion.”

 

Dean grimaces. He’s never been a fan of torture, but he knows what Natasha isn’t saying. “Yeah, okay. I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

 

Natasha leans in for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

 

“I trust you,” Dean replies. “I always have.”

 

“I know.” She caresses his face briefly. “Let’s have dinner first.”

 

He and Natasha don’t have a lot of opportunities for a date night, so their dinner is really something special. They find a little tavern serving traditional fare and really good beer and make the most of their time together. When dinner is over, they finish their beers and Dean puts his game face on.

 

They walk to their destination, which is a few miles away, but not bad for them. On foot, they won’t garner any attention or create a paper trail, like calling for a taxi would. Plus, as nice as the weather is, there are a lot of people out and about. Dean sees couples on romantic strolls, families with children in strollers or on scooters.

 

The wide variety of people mean that no one will notice one more couple walking along, and they move slowly. Even though they’re on business, Dean enjoys their surroundings and his company. He stays alert, but he’d learned this trick in the Rangers, to enjoy what he can about his job.

 

This job is better than a lot of others he’s been on, and he’s with Natasha, so that’s nice. Natasha keeps her arm tucked through his, and he knows she doesn’t hesitate to use PDA to distract people, but it feels real.

 

“This is nice,” Natasha murmurs. “We don’t get to do this very often.”

 

“No, we don’t,” Dean replies. “And it is nice.”

 

“We should do this more,” Natasha says. “Even if we have to wear masks to do it.”

 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, that might be what it takes.”

 

They walk a little farther, and he asks, “Anything I should know about this contact of yours?”

 

“He was fairly high up in the KGB, which is why I think he might have some information, or at least might know who does,” Natasha replies. “The last I heard, he was reliving his glory days by drinking copious amounts of vodka and speaking Russian to anybody who can reply.”

 

“Will he talk to us?” Dean asks.

 

She shrugs. “One way or another.”

 

Dean nods. “Got it.”

 

The apartment building they approach is in a rundown area, and the complex is dingy and not particularly appealing from the outside. Dean doesn’t expect to find anything better inside.

 

“How’s your Russian?” Natasha asks as they climb the stairs.

 

“Getting better,” Dean replies in Russian.

 

She nods. “Your accent isn’t bad. Use Russian only, and if you miss anything, I’ll fill you in later.”

 

“Got it,” Dean says, sticking to Russian, and she gives him an approving look.

 

Natasha knocks briskly on the door, calling out, “Anton! Anton! Your friend has come to visit.”

 

“Go away!” Anton replies.

 

“You owe me a favor,” Natasha replies. “You promised me.”

 

There’s a pause, and the door swings open, revealing a short, balding man with a paunch. “Natalia, I had rather hoped I had seen the last of you. After your revelation, I thought it very unlikely you would call in your favor.”

 

Dean’s Russian has improved to the point that he can follow the conversation and get the gist, even if he doesn’t understand every word.

 

“I always remember who owes me favors,” Natasha counters. “And your favor is bigger than most.”

 

Anton makes a gesture easily interpreted as, “So, get on with it.”

 

“I want to know the origins of the Winter Soldier,” Natasha replies.

 

Anton blanches. “Why would you want to know that?”

 

“Because to know the origins is to know how to control him, as you well know,” Natasha replies. “Tell me everything you know, and I will consider your favor repaid.”

 

Anton shakes his head. “This is a road you do not want to travel, Natalia.”

 

“It’s a road I’m already on,” she says.

 

He sighs. “This will go down better over vodka, yes? Will your friend also drink?”

 

“ _Da_ ,” Dean says.

 

Anton pours them all a drink. “Very well. What I know is mostly rumor and supposition. There is a secret research facility in Siberia. That is where the Winter Soldier was born. How he operates, though, is a mystery to all but the few who knew the secret of how to pull his strings.”

 

Natasha frowns. “Who was his last handler?”

 

“That, I do not know,” Anton replies. When Natasha opens her mouth, probably to argue with him, he raises a hand. “I tell the truth. I do not know. There are stones I left unturned because I knew better than to look.”

 

“Do you have any ideas on where I can find them?” Natasha asks.

 

“If they were smart, they got out of Russia,” he replies. “But no, I have no idea, nor do I want to know.”

 

Dean thinks they’d be better off finding someone who could undo Hydra’s programming, rather than finding the person who holds the strings. Hell, if they’re that worried about someone figuring out how to activate the Winter Soldier, they should find a way to put him on ice.

 

Not that Cap is likely to go for that solution. Given Barnes’ record and the number of bodies he’s stacked up, Dean doubts that the world would allow him to roam free, even if they could ensure he’s safe to be around.

 

Of course, that’s not Barnes’ fault, and either Dean or Bruce could be weaponized, too. Dean feels for him and Steve both, but that doesn’t mean he’s blind to the political realities.

 

He and Natasha take their leave soon after, and Dean asks, “What do you think?”

 

“I think we’d better hope that whoever was pulling Barnes’ strings is well hidden,” Natasha replies. “He’s a loose end, and I’m not fond of those.”

 

“No, me neither,” Dean replies. “Plans?”

 

Natasha smiles at him. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst?”

 

He puts an arm around her shoulders. “Sounds good.”

 

~~~~~

 

They fly back to the States on a Stark Industries jet with their alter egos firmly in place. According to their cover stories, they’re high-level SI consultants, which will hopefully explain the lack of paper trail coming into the country.

 

The jet lands in New York, and there’s a car waiting for them. As soon as they get in, Dean’s phone rings, and he answers it. “Winchester.”

 

“Dean, it’s me,” Tony says. “We’ve got the weapons at the compound upstate, and we’ve decided to move operations there for security reasons.”

 

“That thing in Berlin has you guys worried, huh?” Dean asks.

 

“And a few other issues,” Tony replies. “It’s ready, and we think the base of operations will serve us well. You in?”

 

Dean glances at Natasha, who nods. “Yeah, I’m in. I’ll pack a few things and head up tomorrow morning.”

 

“Take one of my cars,” Tony replies. “I left a few at the Tower. Is Natasha coming?”

 

Dean turns to Natasha. “You coming?”

 

“I have an errand or two to run. I’ll be up in a few days,” she says.

 

“She’ll be along shortly,” Dean says. “Anything you want me to bring with me?”

 

“No, we’re good here,” Tony replies. “But Coulson left a message for you to call when you got back. Might want to do that, Demo. See you tomorrow.”

 

Dean grimaces. “I wonder what Coulson wants.”

 

“Better call and find out,” Natasha advises.

 

“I’ll wait until we get back to the Tower,” Dean replies. “I want to see him face-to-face, or as close to it as we can get.”

 

The driver lets Natasha off at her place, and Dean off at his apartment. Dean’s things are scattered between the Tower and his apartment, and now probably the compound upstate. He probably should give it up, but Clint’s cut him a great deal on the rent, and it’s a little bit of a security blanket to have a bolt hole that’s his alone.

 

If Dean has to cut and run, and he has the time, he has everything he needs to do it there. He’ll create other caches, because he’s not stupid enough to put all his eggs in one basket, but he thinks most people will assume that he’s moved into the Tower.

 

He packs up what he needs for a couple of weeks at the compound then heads to the Tower, where he plans on staying for the night so he can get an early start the next morning. He calls Coulson once he’s back.

 

“Director,” Dean says. “Tony said you wanted to talk to me.”

 

“I did, yes,” Coulson replies. “I have some news about the enhanced people from Sokovia.”

 

Dean nods. “Okay, I’m listening.”

 

“They woke up,” Coulson says bluntly. “And once we explained what Hydra was actually trying to do, and that they were an offshoot of an evil Nazi organization bent on world domination, they expressed regret.”

 

Dean snorts. “Regret, huh?”

 

“The rest of their family was killed by a Stark bomb,” Coulson says. “They’re young, and they had a lot of anger at Stark, and the Avengers, although less with you. They wanted revenge.”

 

Dean scrubs his hands over his face. “Yeah, well, I can understand that, I guess. What are you going to do with them?”

 

“They have a lot of control over their abilities, and they have inside information on Hydra,” Coulson replies. “We’ve told them that if they cooperate, we’ll see about releasing them. If they don’t, we’ll hand them over to the ATCU.”

 

“I guess that’s about the best we can hope for,” Dean replies. “But do me a favor, Director. Keep them away from me, and the rest of the team. They fucked with my head, and I don’t want them around me or Bruce.”

 

“Fair enough,” Coulson replies. “How are you doing, Dean?”

 

“I’ve been worse,” Dean says. “I’m headed upstate tomorrow. If you need me, you know where to call.”

 

Coulson frowns. “Dean, I’m sorry. I know Ms. Maximoff caused you some distress.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather people be salvaged than thrown away.”

 

“Take care of yourself,” Coulson replies.

 

“You, too.” It’s not until he’s off the phone that Dean realizes he’s apparently gotten out of the habit of calling him “sir.”

 

He’s not sure what that means.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean’s quarters at the compound are still a little sterile, but Dean is reluctant to decorate. He has an itch between his shoulder blades that says he shouldn’t get too comfortable. He drops his stuff off and finds the lab he knows they’re using for chemical analysis.

 

The compound isn’t quite fully staffed yet, but there are a lot more people around than there usually are, and he stops one. “Have you seen Dr. Banner?”

 

“He’s in Mr. Stark’s lab, sir,” the woman replies. “Do you need directions?”

 

“No, I got it,” Dean replies.

 

Dean enters Tony’s lab and finds the two mad scientists together. “Hey, guys.”

 

“What did Coulson want?” Tony asks.

 

“The twins—the Maximoffs—are awake, and SHIELD is rehabilitating them,” Dean replies. “He just wanted me to know.”

 

Bruce looks at Dean. “Are you okay with that?”

 

“I guess I have to be, right?” Dean asks. “I told him to keep them far away from us, and he agreed. What else can I do?”

 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Tony observes.

 

“Coulson has always been one to gather foundlings,” Dean says. “But that’s nothing to do with us. What have you found out about the weapons we found?”

 

Tony grins. “So glad you asked, because we were saving the splinter bombs for you now that we know you have a chemical engineering degree. And thanks for that surprise by the way!”

 

“Hey, I know you read my file,” Dean counters. “If you didn’t read closely enough, that’s on you. Besides, it’s not like I graduated summa cum laude.”

 

Bruce snorts. “No, but it’s also not like school was your main focus. Let me show you what we’ve got.”

 

The thing about being around Bruce and Tony is that they make Dean remember he’s smart, without ever making him feel like he’s dumb for not being a genius like them. The others on the team, maybe they don’t get that, but Dean’s felt that way since the beginning.

 

The Rangers had molded him, and SHIELD built on that foundation, but the Avengers—all of them—have honed him.

 

And when Tony says, “Okay, Bruce, Dean, you got this? I’m going to work on the other weapons, if you do.”

 

“Yeah, Tony, we’re fine,” Bruce replies, and Dean feels a warm glow, like maybe he isn’t just a weapon or a pretty face.

 

They’re careful with the splinter bomb, and Bruce lets Dean take the lead on dismantling it. From there, Bruce walks Dean through the analysis. Bruce is a great teacher, and Dean says as much.

 

Bruce chuckles. “I taught for a while when I was getting my doctorate, but I thought a pure research position was more my speed. Funny thing is, if I could go back and teach, I’d do that.”

 

“Sometimes your life takes a strange turn,” Dean says. “I know mine has.”

 

“Do you have any regrets?” Bruce asks. “About joining SHIELD or the rest of it?”

 

Dean hesitates. “Well, I’m not going to deny that being able to blow things up with my mind is pretty cool for a guy who specializes in demolition.”

 

“But?”

 

“But I keep thinking about that kid in Berlin,” Dean admits. “And how that could be me under the right—or wrong—circumstances.”

 

Bruce is silent, and Dean is grateful that he doesn’t try to assure him that would never happen, because that’s a guarantee that no one can make.

 

“You know, I hate Hydra, but they do make effective weapons,” Dean comments.

 

“They do,” Bruce replies. “The splinter bombs worry me the most. There doesn’t seem to be an effective countermeasure, and the potential for loss of life is considerable.”

 

“And most scans won’t detect them,” Dean says. “I think that might be our best bet, figuring out the easiest way to alter basic metal detectors to find them. That’s how the kid managed to get in the building with one.”

 

Bruce nods. “I think with the basic schematics, that’s doable. We know Hydra used them in the UN as well, so I imagine plenty of people would be interested in that technology.”

 

“The material is alien; maybe there’s a tweak that will let us detect that,” Dean replies.

 

Bruce snaps his fingers. “Good call. Maybe it gives off some kind of signal?”

 

“It’s definitely not radiation,” Dean says, looking at the readout. “We’d need to be sure it’s passive detection. We can’t risk setting them off.”

 

“Agreed,” Bruce replies. “Maybe electromagnetic imaging?”

 

“That’s pretty difficult to put into standard metal detectors, and the outside casing is resistant to X-rays,” Dean points out.

 

Bruce nods. “X-rays are out, but there might be another way.”

 

They work on the problem for the rest of the day, but don’t find a solution by the time hunger drives them out of the lab.

 

No one else is around, and neither of them feels like cooking, so they throw together some sandwiches while continuing to discuss the problem. That discussion braches out to other things they’ve built, and Dean is asking Bruce about a water reclamation system he built when Clint wanders in.

 

“Nerd alert!” Clint says with a smirk. “I always knew you were a closet geek, Winchester.”

 

Dean shrugs. “Yeah? Nerds rule, archers drool.”

 

Bruce chokes on his swallow of water.

 

“I’ll get you for that,” Clint threatens.

 

Dean takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, demonstrating just how much he doesn’t care about Clint’s threats.

 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Clint says. “You can dish it but you can’t take it.”

 

Dean swallows. “You were the one who started it, dude. Not that I have a problem with being called a nerd, but you start slinging around what you think are insults, you have to take your licks.”

 

Clint holds up his hands. “Okay, fair enough. There any more lunch meat in there?”

 

“There’s some ham left,” Bruce says mildly. “And a few other things.”

 

Clint shrugs. “Thanks.”

 

Dean wants to go back to their conversation, but he feels self-conscious now. Bruce seems to understand that, because he asks Clint about the training schedule for the next few days. Dean finishes his sandwich, and then heads back to the lab.

 

He has a problem to solve, and Clint’s comment stings in a way. He’s not ashamed of his brain, but he was never seen as the smart brother.

 

“Bruce said you had made progress,” Tony says as he enters. “But that you might want help.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says. “We’re struggling with how we can detect the splinter bombs with regular metal detectors.”

 

Tony gives him a sharp look. “You didn’t let Barton get under your skin, did you? Because you know he’s an asshole.”

 

“We’re all assholes,” Dean deflects.

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, but there are some who are bigger assholes than others. You’re a smart guy, Dean. You wouldn’t be where you are today if you weren’t. You’re a bigger asset to us if you’re using your brain. If Barton wants to be a dumbass, that’s on him.”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

 

“Good,” Tony says. “Now, walk me through what you were thinking.”

 

Dean takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this job requires all of his gifts, and then he does as Tony asks .

 

~~~~~

 

The next few weeks are filled with training, research, and trial and error on finding ways to detect Hydra weapons without setting them off.

 

Dean feels like there’s a gathering storm, like they’re in the eye of a hurricane. He can’t put his finger on why, but he trusts his instincts. They’ve served him well over the years.

 

Maybe it’s just because reports of Inhumans keep coming in, and Dean gets a report from Coulson that the ATCU is actually Hydra.

 

“It’s what?” Dean asks.

 

“Hydra,” Coulson confirms. “We’re taking care of it, but I thought you should know.”

 

“So, I guess that means you won’t be sending any Inhumans their way,” Dean says wryly.

 

“No, we won’t,” Coulson replies. “By the way, I thought I should let you know—your brother seems to be running an underground railroad of sorts for Inhumans. He’s helped a couple escape from the ATCU.”

 

“Sam?” Dean asks incredulously. “Seriously?”

 

“Daisy had some words with him and explained the situation,” Coulson says. “Without giving away too much, of course.”

 

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Does he know what he’s messing with?”

 

“I’m sure he does now,” Coulson replies. “But I think you’re a big part of why he’s doing this.”

 

“Yeah, well, I never asked him to,” Dean mutters. “Is he going to get himself into trouble?”

 

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Coulson promises. “Make sure he doesn’t get in too deep.”

 

“It’s appreciated,” Dean says. “If he’s going to get involved in this, it’s nice to know that someone is looking out for him.”

 

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Coulson says.

 

“Yeah, you too,” Dean replies.

 

He’s right on the edge of a breakthrough with the splinter bomb, and he’s still tinkering. Since he’s the only one who’s immune, he’s been the one primarily responsible.

 

Dean is concentrating hard when Tony enters the workshop. “Your birthday is just around the corner.”

 

“Yeah, so?” Dean asks.

 

“So, how do you want to celebrate?” Tony asks.

 

“I’m not really feeling the celebration thing this year,” Dean says absently. “I’m good with not doing anything.”

 

“Wrong answer,” Tony replies. “Although we can keep it low key.”

 

Dean gives him a look. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

 

“Nope,” Tony says cheerfully.

 

“Something low key, then,” Dean replies. “Just the team.”

 

Tony nods. “I can do that. You going to visit your uncle for Christmas?”

 

“No, I don’t want to risk Sam showing up,” Dean replies. “I thought I’d just stick around here.”

 

Tony nods. “Well, there should be a few of us here. Bruce and I decided to stick around here this year as well, and I think Steve is staying.”

 

Dean isn’t paying much attention, too focused on the task at hand. “Yeah? That’s good.”

 

“Maybe we should celebrate,” Tony says. “Start some traditions of our own. It’ll be an Avenger themed Christmas.”

 

“Sure,” Dean replies. “Hey, take a look at this for me, Tony. I think I have it figured out.”

 

Tony leans in to check Dean’s work and whistles. “Now that’s good work! And I don’t say that often. Way to use what’s available, Dean. We can get these plans out right away.”

 

Dean grins. “It’s about damn time.”

 

His goal has been to be able to modify an ordinary metal detector without a lot of expensive parts or time-consuming repairs. Dean knows how law enforcement works, and if they don’t make it easy and cheap, a lot of places will try to skate by without them.

 

“You did good,” Tony says. “I’d have stopped at making something new, but you figured out how to retrofit metal detectors easily. You ever get tired of Avenging, I’ll put you to work in R&D.”

 

Dean feels his face heat. “Thanks.”

 

“Think nothing of it,” Tony replies. “I like talent.”

 

“Right.” Dean has no idea what to do with that, but he’s a little relieved when Tony leaves. He’s overwhelmed, and he wonders what Sam would say if he knew Dean had a job offer from Stark Industries.

 

And then he hates himself a little bit for even thinking about Sam.

 

With his project complete, Dean is left a little bit at loose ends, and on a whim he decides to visit Sonny’s place. He heads down to the garage to see what cars are available; he finally feels comfortable enough to borrow one when he feels like it.

 

He’s looking for something that’s not too flashy when Bruce enters. “Hey, Tony said you solved the problem.”

 

“Yeah, it looks like it,” Dean replies.

 

“You going somewhere?”

 

“Sonny’s?” Dean asks. “Unless someone needs me.”

 

“Well, I saw Steve prowling around, but he didn’t send me after you, if that’s what you mean,” Bruce replies. “You mind if I go with you? I could stand getting out of here for a while.”

 

Dean can’t see a reason to deny the request. “Sure, if you want.”

 

Bruce smiles, although the expression is fleeting. “Thanks. I just really need to clear my head.”

 

“Yeah, of course, Doc. I know what you mean. Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise?”

 

“It hasn’t been terribly paradise like recently,” Bruce replies.

 

He doesn’t say anything more, and Dean decides not to press. “Well, I can’t promise the kids won’t mob you.”

 

“I don’t mind kids,” Bruce replies with a grin. “I thought I wanted some of my own, once upon a time.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean says. “Tony says you’re sticking around here for Christmas.”

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “We’re not big on celebrating, but with most of the team sticking around here, we figured it was a good call.”

 

“You don’t sound too sure of that.”

 

“Like I said, we’re not big on celebrating.” Bruce shrugs. “Staying around here isn’t a big deal. What about you?”

 

“Last real Christmas I had was with my Ranger team,” Dean replies. “It’s not like any of us have been all that interested in celebrating the holidays.”

 

“Fair enough,” Bruce agrees.

 

Dean takes a breath. “It’s just—it feels like we’re on the cusp of something, and it worries me.”

 

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Bruce replies. “Let’s leave it at that.”

 

Dean glances over at him. “You okay, Bruce?”

 

“I’m tired,” Bruce admits after a pause. “And if I had my way, I’d go off the grid for a few months.”

 

Dean knows he’s serious, and he says, “Tell you what, you ever decide to do that, come see me. I might just go with you to watch your back.”

 

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” Bruce replies. “Thanks.”

 

“Where would you go?” Dean asks. “Just spit balling.”

 

Bruce leans against the passenger door. “Well, I’ve done Central and South America, and I’ve done India. Maybe Africa? I mean, I know it’s a big continent, but I’ve never been, and the military doesn’t have much presence.”

 

“What would you do?” he asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I don’t know. Find work, maybe try to help people. Build houses, water reclamation systems, do some doctoring, teach… Anything, really.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Dean replies, imagining it. He’s not interested in being some kind of savior, but doing small, concrete things that could make others’ lives better? That wouldn’t be too bad.

 

He could put some plans in place. He knows Natasha has go bags stashed in various places with escape routes for every possibility. Dean has never asked her about them, because he could end up compromised.

 

But if he knows where they’re going, he could get passports with fake identities, put together travel plans and research their options. If they have to run, if things get too hot, they won’t be going in completely cold.

 

“I’ve never run with a plan before,” Bruce comments, apparently reading Dean’s mind.

 

Dean laughs. “That’s the thing about running with a Ranger. We always have a plan, even if it’s a half-assed one.”

 

They don’t talk much the rest of the way to Sonny’s, arriving in the late afternoon. Sonny comes out to greet them, and Dean appreciates his slightly imposing figure. Sonny was always protective, but he breaks out in a smile as soon as he sees Dean.

 

“D-dog,” Sonny says. “Good to see you, man.”

 

“Yeah, you too, Sonny.” Dean gives him a quick, hard hug. “Did Tony come by like he said?”

 

“A couple of weeks ago,” Sonny replies. “Showed up in the armor and everything. They got a real kick out of that. And then a bunch of presents showed up the next day. The note said they were an early Christmas gift.”

 

Dean snorts. “That sounds like Tony. Sonny, this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, Sonny.”

 

Bruce offers a hand with that wry smile he so often wears, and Sonny shakes his hand with a pleased smile. “It’s a pleasure, Dr. Banner. Dean’s spoken of you very highly.”

 

“He’s very kind,” Bruce replies.

 

“Rarely,” Dean says.

 

Bruce snorts. “Well, I suppose you keep saying you’re the pretty one. We wouldn’t want you to get the reputation of being the nice one. That’s Steve’s role.”

 

“I would have thought Natasha was the pretty one,” Sonny replies.

 

Dean laughs. “No, she’s the deadly one. Point of fact, pretty sure she’d kill anybody who called her the pretty one.”

 

Sonny grins. “Well, you always did have an eye for a badass lady. Robin is still a state trooper.”

 

“That was your first girlfriend?” Bruce asks.

 

“Oh, yeah. She was great,” Dean says. “A real spitfire.”

 

“She gave Dean a run for his money, that’s for sure,” Sonny comments. “He tried to play dumb exactly once in her presence. She told him she didn’t care for ignorant boys, and if he was going to act stupid, then he shouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

 

Bruce barks a laugh. “Well, that’s blunt.”

 

“I’ve always appreciated a direct woman.”

 

“Clearly,” Bruce replies, obviously amused.

 

“The boys will be excited to see you,” Sonny says. “And have a visit from another Avenger. Fair warning, Dr. Banner, they’ll probably ask inappropriate questions.”

 

“Then I won’t answer,” Bruce replies. “But I’m not sure any question is inappropriate.”

 

“Oh, just wait,” Dean warns him. “They’ll find something.”

 

“Hey, guys,” Sonny calls as they enter. “Dean’s here, and he brought a friend!”

 

Dean has been up to visit a couple of times since Bobby headed home, so he’s a familiar face at this point, even to the rotating cast of characters who populate Sonny’s. If it’s just Dean, the kids tend to filter in slowly, as they decide to take a break from whatever they’re doing. Since he has a friend, a few skid into the kitchen right away.

 

Chip is at the forefront. “Dean!” And then he stops cold. “ _It’s the Hulk_.”

 

Dean covers his mouth to hide his smile.

 

“Chip, this is Dr. Banner,” Sonny says, a severe note in his voice.

 

Chip gulps. “Sorry. Dr. Banner, I did a report on you! I had to report on gamma radiation for school, and you’re the expert!”

 

Dean chokes on his laughter, trying hard not to show his amusement.

 

“What kind of report did you write?” Bruce asks kindly.

 

The kids gather around Bruce, and more and more filter in, wanting to meet the guy who turns into the Hulk. In spite of Sonny’s warning, most of the boys refrain from asking impertinent questions, maybe _because_ of the Hulk.

 

And then one of the older boys, James, asks insolently, “So, what does it take to get you to turn into a bad guy?”

 

Dean could see Bruce stiffen, and he catches Sonny’s eye, who nods. “Yeah, that’s it, asshole. Outside.”

 

He grabs the back of James’ shirt and hauls him back outside. “You got a problem?” he demands.

 

“Fuck off,” James replies, puffing his chest out.

 

Dean crosses his arms. “Try again.”

 

“We all know he’s a loaded weapon,” James says.

 

Dean gets into his face the way he had with greenies back when he was acting as a drill sergeant at Fort Benning. “And what are you? Bruce put himself on the line in New York, and without him, we’d be kissing alien ass, assuming we were even alive. When you’ve saved the world, you get to mouth off, and not a moment before.”

 

“Freak,” James mutters under his breath.

 

Dean points at the barn. “Cool off, and remember that some of us freaks can blow you up with our brains.”

 

James sulks off, muttering insults under his breath that Dean ignores.

 

Sonny meets him at the door. “Sorry. He’s an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean replies. “I sent him to cool off in the barn. Any idea what he has against Bruce?”

 

“Pretty sure he wishes he had superpowers so he could destroy the people who have hurt him,” Sonny says. “He’s had a bad run.”

 

“I get that, but it doesn’t excuse being an asshole to my friend, which I think he understands now,” Dean replies. “How are the other kids doing?”

 

Sonny laughs. “Bruce is a one-man mission for the love of science. The younger kids are eating it up. I think their grades are going to go up.”

 

“Yeah, he’s a good teacher,” Dean replies. “James will just have to miss out.”

 

When he pokes his head in, Bruce is describing the physics behind teleportation to the delight of most of the kids. There are a couple who wear bored expressions, but they listen politely enough.

 

“Can we spring for dinner?” Dean asks Sonny.

 

Sonny shakes his head. “No, unless you have a problem with chili-mac. There’s plenty to go around.”

 

“I remember your chili-mac,” Dean replies. “I don’t mind a bit.”

 

“Great, good to have you, Dean.” Sonny pauses. “You know, I’ve been seeing the news. I know there are a lot of people who aren’t thrilled with people who have special abilities, and not just assholes like James. You need any help, you get in any trouble I can help with, you call me.”

 

Dean smiles. “Thanks, Sonny. It’s much appreciated.”

 

Dean won’t take him up on it, because he won’t put Sonny or his boys in jeopardy. But he does appreciate the offer.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean has never particularly enjoyed Christmas, not when he’d still been living with his dad, not at Sonny’s, and not when he was with the Rangers or with SHIELD. Before he wound up at Sonny’s, Dean couldn’t help but remember his last Christmas when his mom was alive. After, he always felt like he was borrowing someone else’s family.

 

Sonny did his best, and his best was pretty damn good. So did his Ranger buddies, and their families had always been welcoming. But Dean had never felt at home.

 

Even after making up with Sam—the first time—they’d never managed to spend the holiday together.

 

So, Dean doesn’t have a lot of expectations, other than to maybe sleep in and get out of training. He figures he’s due a lazy day.

 

Only things turn out better than he expects. Natasha shows up two days before Christmas, and the rest of the team decides to stick around—minus Thor, who’s off with his girlfriend.

 

Tony goes all out decorating, and whatever minor tensions Dean has noticed lately are absent when they eat dinner together on Christmas Eve. Dean helps Bruce cook, and the others participate where they can, and it feels like a family.

 

Steve and Clint trade “world’s greatest shots” stories, comparing bow to shield. Natasha keeps stealing bites of food as Dean prepares the veggies, and Tony tries to annoy Bruce into paying attention to him, rather than the turkey he’s basting.

 

If Dean hadn’t been used to squashing all hope ruthlessly, he might have thought it would last, but his past has taught him to be grateful for every moment.

 

It’s late when dinner finishes, and then Natasha hauls him off to his quarters. “I want to blow you,” she says bluntly when the door closes behind her.

 

Dean isn’t a stupid man, and he hasn’t seen her for the last couple of weeks. “Yeah, of course. You can do whatever you want to me, or with me.”

 

“I do appreciate a man who can take orders when necessary,” Natasha replies.

 

“It’s a pleasure to follow yours,” Dean says.

 

She smiles, looking like the cat that got the canary. “I always knew you were smart, in spite of your worrisome tendency towards martyrdom.”

 

“Hey, if I’m dead, I don’t get you,” Dean replies. “I’ll do my best to stay alive for you, Nat.”

 

Her smirk turns tender. “Good.”

 

She goes down on him, and Dean half-expects her to bring him off quickly, but she draws it out. Every time Dean gets close, she seems to sense it, and then she backs off.

 

Dean is reduced to begging, and he fists his hands in the sheets to avoid touching her head. Natasha doesn’t like even the hint of someone holding her head in place; when she’s going down on him, she wants to be in control. Dean is happy to let her.

 

“Come on,” Dean begs. “Nat, please.”

 

“Would you like me to stop?” Natasha asks, pulling off his dick with a lewd, smacking sound.

 

“God, no,” Dean replies. “Take your time.”

 

“Thank you, I will,” Natasha replies, and returns to it. When Dean finally does come, it’s with a guttural cry.

 

“Give me a sec,” he pants.

 

She kisses him, and he tastes himself on her lips, which he finds more erotic than he expects. “That was your Christmas gift. You can repay the favor tomorrow morning.”

 

“Happy to,” Dean replies, pleased when she tucks into his side. Natasha is all taut muscle and curves, and Dean can’t help but think about how lucky he is. “Merry Christmas.”

 

She presses her lips to his bare chest. “You, too.”

 

And Dean finds that it’s enough.

 

~~~~~

 

They get the call two weeks after the New Year. Thor has gone back to Asgard, or some other realm, and Coulson is pursuing Gideon Malick with a single-minded purpose. Dean has been in contact with Daisy, occasionally commiserating over being an Inhuman and building a team, so he at least knows what’s going on.

 

But that means when the report of an enhanced person wreaking havoc comes in, the Avengers are the ones to deal with it. The last mission to deal with an Inhuman had gone fairly well, but Dean keeps remembering Berlin, and watching that kid buy it on the news.

 

The call comes from Rhodey, when Dean, Steve, and Tony are working on a plan for dealing with the next Hydra threat. “What’s up, Rhodey?” Tony asks when he answers.

 

“We have a problem in D.C.,” Rhodey replies. “At least one enhanced person, maybe more, and the local authorities are overwhelmed. We don’t want another Berlin, and there’s concern that the terrigen might still be present.”

 

Tony nods. “Got it. We’re on it.”

 

“Good luck, and be careful,” Rhodey replies. “If you can’t take care of it, they’ll have to get the local SWAT involved. Thankfully, it’s far enough removed from Capitol Hill that the Secret Service hasn’t been called.”

 

Dean grimaces. “They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

 

“Most likely,” Rhodey agrees. “So, if you want to avoid that scenario, I’d get things calmed down ASAP.”

 

“We’ll take care of it, Colonel Rhodes,” Steve promises. “Dean, you’re up. I’ll grab Barton and Romanoff.” He glances at Tony. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Bruce to be there.”

 

“Agreed,” Tony replies. “I can send a dozen of the Iron Legion to help clear out civilians and prevent additional casualties without leaving the Tower.”

 

Steve nods sharply. “Good. Better get them moving. They’ll get there faster than us.”

 

“Already on the way,” Tony says.

 

Dean’s on his way out the door already to get suited up, and he quickly gets to his quarters and strips out of his clothes, pulling on his uniform with quick, practiced movements. He buckles his utility belt and checks his thigh holsters, tightening them securely.

 

He always keeps his weapons ready, so there’s no need to check the contents of the belt or the clips in his guns. The Quinjet is ready when Dean enters the hangar, and Clint is already in the pilot’s seat.

 

“Ready, Demo?”

 

“As I’ll ever be,” Dean replies.

 

Cap and Natasha show up within a few seconds, and then they’re up and running. Dean takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what’s to come. Multiple enhanced people with the possibility of additional terrigen on scene means he’ll be going in alone, at least at first.

 

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “I think I should probably go in alone, just in case there’s still terrigen present.”

 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

 

“Yeah, because if you guys get exposed to terrigen, my actions will have been for nothing,” Dean replies. “I’ll assess the situation and call you in if it’s clear.”

 

A commercial flight between upstate New York and DC would take close to 2 hours; the Quinjet makes it in a little over one. There’s a mostly-empty parking lot a couple of blocks away from the house they’ve been called to.

 

Tony’s Iron Legion has cleared the area of civilians, and there are cops on the scene as well. They have a perimeter established, but it doesn’t seem wide enough as far as Dean’s concerned. “Cap, we need to get these people farther back.”

 

Steve nods. “Stay in touch.”

 

Dean leaves his gun holstered as he cautiously knocks on the door, stepping over the body of a postman. Dean can’t see an immediate cause of death, but he’s definitely gone. “My name is Dean, and I’m with the Avengers. Can I come in?”

 

There’s no answer, and Dean tries the doorknob. It turns easily under his hand, and he makes entry. He still doesn’t pull his weapon—because he _is_ a weapon—although he would have under other circumstances.

 

He creeps inside the house, which is quiet at this point. There’s no sign of life, or of anybody causing a ruckus, which sets Dean on edge. There can often be a calm before the storm, in his experience. He wonders why there would have been a problem before when there isn’t now.

 

There’s a front room that shows signs of a struggle—an overturned recliner, a burn mark on the sofa, a busted picture frame, and the glass shards of a broken vase with spilled water and cut flowers.

 

Dean moves down the hallway and comes to the kitchen. When he peeks around the corner, he takes in the scene in a few seconds. There’s a figure on the floor, turned to stone and in pieces. There’s a man slumped in the corner of the room, and one side of his face is bloody. And there’s a teenage boy pacing the kitchen.

 

He wraps his knuckles on the doorjamb. “Hey, you okay?”

 

“Who are you?” the boy asks. When he turns to look at Dean, he has a black eye and a bruised jaw. “Wait, I know you.”

 

“Yeah, I have one of those faces,” Dean says. “Some people call me Demo. Maybe you know me by that name.”

 

“The Avengers are here?” the boy asks. “Shit, oh, shit. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

 

Dean steps into the room. “Yeah, okay, man. I get that. You’re going through some changes right now, and I’ve been through something similar. We can just chill out. We can help you.”

 

The kid sees the body. “That’s my mom. That’s _my mom_. Did I do that? Did I kill her?”

 

“No, no, that’s not on you,” Dean assures him. “Hey, what’s your name? My name is Dean.”

 

“Ollie,” he says, and he can’t be more than fourteen. “My name is Oliver. Oh, god, my little sister. She’s upstairs, or she should be. I don’t know where she is.”

 

Dean winces. “Do you know what triggered this? I can call some friends in to help, but only if I know they’re safe.”

 

“I don’t know,” Ollie says. “I don’t know.”

 

“Okay, I’m going to check on your sister, but I want you to stay here and stay calm. What’s her name?”

 

Ollie nods. “Miri. I told her to go hide. She’s probably under her bed.”

 

In retrospect, Dean probably should have realized what that meant, but he has a dead person, an unconscious person, a kid who probably still needs to be talked down, and another child, status unknown. Dean prioritizes the sister.

 

“Which room?”

 

“Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall,” Ollie says. “Get her out of here. She doesn’t need to see this.”

 

Dean heads up the stairs. “Can someone join me on the roof? I don’t know how safe we are from terrigen, but we have a kid who should probably get out.”

 

“On it,” Clint replies. “Which side?”

 

“East,” Dean says, doing the mental calculation. “I’ll put her out the window.”

 

“Meet you there.”

 

Dean finds the girl’s room without any trouble. There’s a sign on one door that says “Ollie,” and the door at the end of the hallway says, “Miri.”

 

Dean keeps his tone gentle as he says, “Miri? My name is Dean, and I’m with the Avengers. Are you here, sweetheart?”

 

A little girl, maybe about eight, pokes her head out from under the bed. “Are you Demo?”

 

“Yeah, I am,” Dean replies. “But my friends call me Dean. Are you Miri?”

 

“How did you know my name?” she asks, wriggling out from under the bed.

 

“Your brother told me. He wanted me to make sure you were okay,” Dean replies. “How about you go with my friend until we can make sure your house is safe, huh?”

 

She nods. “Dad was being mean to Ollie again.”

 

“Well, I’ll make sure he’s not mean to him now, okay?” Dean asks, holding out his arms.

 

She wraps her thin arms around his neck trustingly, and Dean carries her over to the window he’d identified. Clint has already removed the screen, and he’s crouched on the roof with Steve. “I’ll let you know when it’s clear,” Dean says, passing Miri through the open window.

 

She goes to Steve easily. “You’re Captain America!”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says. “I’m going to keep you safe.”

 

“I wish you could have kept Ollie safe,” she says wistfully.

 

Dean exchanges an alarmed look with Clint and Steve. “I have to get back down there. Get her to a safe place.”

 

“You got it,” Cap replies, and he holds her safe in his arms as he jumps off the roof.

 

Clint gives Dean a look. “Are you sure you’ve got this? I can come in with you.”

 

“No, go,” Dean says. “We don’t know if she’s been exposed. Pretty sure Ollie has been, and maybe the dad, but I don’t want to risk any of you or the kid.”

 

Clint nods reluctantly. “Be careful, man. What she said—”

 

“There’s more going on than we know,” Dean says. “Yeah, I got that, too. I’ll be careful.”

 

Clint leaves, and Dean heads back downstairs. Now that the innocent has been secured, he needs to figure out what happened, talk Ollie down, and hopefully bring the situation to a reasonable conclusion.

 

Ollie is still pacing the kitchen, staring at the floor, but he looks up when Dean enters. “Did you find Miri?”

 

“She’s fine, and she’s safe,” Dean replies. “She was hiding under the bed like you said. Can you tell me what happened here, Ollie?”

 

The kid shrugs. “Dad was pissed because I told him I didn’t want tuna again. He got a bunch of it on sale, and he thinks it’s healthy, so he keeps telling us we have to eat it. He lets Miri pick it out, but he gets pissed at me. He says I’m not grateful.”

 

Dean knows that at least a couple of Inhumans have been activated because they’ve taken tainted fish oil capsules. Apparently, canned tuna should go on that list, too. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ollie says. “Mom started turning to stone it seemed like, and then Dad did, and I think I did, too. I told Miri to run, because my dad started freaking out.”

 

“I can help you.” Dean holds out his hand. “Right now, you haven’t done anything you can’t take back. We can take you someplace where you can calm down and figure out how to control whatever these new abilities are.”

 

Ollie shakes his head. “My mom is dead, and it’s _his_ fault.”

 

Dean can tell the kid is getting worked up again. “I’m sorry about your mom, but I need you to be cool.”

 

Electricity is beginning to crackle, and Dean knows he has to either calm this kid down or knock him out. “Look, kid, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you hurt anybody else either.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Ollie shouts. “It’s his fault!”

 

Dean’s focus has been on the kid, not the unconscious man on the floor, and that’s his mistake. He’d assumed Ollie was the threat—and he is—but that doesn’t mean his old man isn’t a threat as well.

 

“You ungrateful little brat!” The man’s words have force behind them, and Dean gets knocked on his ass. “I’ll teach you to show some respect!”

 

The words pummel Ollie, who falls back, a trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth.

 

“Hey, knock it off!” Dean shouts. “Stand down and shut the hell up!”

 

“Stay out of our business, freak,” the man snarls.

 

The words knock him back again, and Dean can feel his own anger building. “I said, stand down. The Avengers are here, and we’ll handle it.”

 

“I don’t answer to you, _freak_.”

 

“You leave him alone!” Ollie shouts, electricity shooting out his fingers at his father.

 

“Demo? Is everything okay?” Steve calls over coms.

 

“Freaks like you are what’s wrong with this world!” the man yells, and each word feels like a punch to the face.

 

Dean grabs a cup and throws it at the man’s head, exploding it next to his ear. “I said, stand down!”

 

“I’ll take care of you next,” the man shouts, knocking Dean into the wall.

 

“Dean, do you need us?” Steve asks.

 

Dean can’t answer because he’s trying to get to Ollie, who sends a bolt of electricity towards his father. The dad dodges it, and the next blow that lands isn’t verbal. The punch lands squarely on Ollie’s nose and the kid goes down.

 

Dean sees red. His anger has been building from the moment he realized that Ollie had been abused, and that’s part of what’s going on.

 

Bruce warned him that if he didn’t recognize his triggers and get out of situations that would challenge his control, the damage he could do was immense.

 

It turns out that Bruce is right.

 

By the time Dean realizes what he’s doing and reins it in, the house is a smoking ruin. The asshole is definitely dead, but Ollie is nowhere to be seen, and Dean hopes he managed to shield him.

 

The side of his face is wet, and Dean touches his forehead, looking at the blood on his fingertips. He’s dazed, and he’s not sure when he hit his head.

 

Dean smells smoke and burned plastic, and part of the kitchen is still smoldering. The doorway to the hallway leading to the front door has half collapsed, and Dean squeezes between the wall and the beam with difficulty.

 

He stumbles down the hallway, coughing on the smoke. Once he gets outside, the air quality isn’t much better, and he realizes for the first time the extent of the devastation he’s caused. The entire block looks as though a bomb has hit it, like they’ve been in the middle of a war zone.

 

Steve comes up to him, pushing his cowl back and putting an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “We heard everything,” Steve murmurs. “I’m sorry, I should have gotten you out of there faster.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “The kids—where are the kids?”

 

“We got the girl away,” Steve says. “There’s been no sign of the boy. We didn’t want to go in and risk setting you off.”

 

“I’ve got him,” Natasha says, taking Steve’s place. “It’s okay, Dean.”

 

“How is this okay?” Dean asks, his voice rising.

 

Natasha leans in close. “Not here. You’re hurt; you need medical attention. You need to get out of here.”

 

“I should stay and help,” Dean argues.

 

Natasha shakes her head. “No. Tony has already sent help. You need to get somewhere safe.”

 

“How many did I kill?” Dean asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Natasha replies.

 

“How many?”

 

“I really don’t know, but that doesn’t matter right now, because you’re going to collapse pretty soon,” Natasha says. “And you need to see a doctor.”

 

Dean wants to argue, but his knees are weak, and he’s fairly certain that he’s going to be sick.

 

“Not now,” Natasha says urgently. “You can fall apart later, but not now.”

 

She escorts him back to the Quinjet, and Dean sees more of the devastation he caused. Buildings a block away have windows blown out and what looks like smoke damage.

 

“Don’t look,” Natasha says. “This wasn’t your fault, Dean. We should have gone in much sooner than we did.”

 

“I should have known what would happen,” Dean mutters. “I should have secured him. This is on me.”

 

Natasha shakes him. “This is on _all_ of us. We heard things going south, and we didn’t act quickly enough.”

 

Dean doesn’t argue. Natasha had been right about him passing out, because he barely makes it back to the Quinjet before his knees buckle. She manhandles him onto the bench and pushes him down. “Lay down and don’t move.”

 

He’s out a moment later, which is probably a mercy, because when he wakes up again, he’s in the infirmary in the Tower, and he immediately remembers what he’s done. Dean begins to sit up, and Natasha puts her hand on his chest. “Stay down.”

 

“What time is it?” Dean asks.

 

“About 4 am,” she replies. “You have a moderate concussion. We haven’t been able to wake you up, but the doctor thought that might be a product of exhaustion. Bruce agreed. I volunteered to stay with you while they figure out what our message is going to be.”

 

None of that tells Dean what he really wants to hear. “How many dead?”

 

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Natasha replies.

 

“Nat, you can tell me, or I’ll turn on the news,” Dean replies.

 

She glares at him. “You really shouldn’t be looking at a screen right now.”

 

“Please.”

 

“Eleven dead, 61 injured,” she says succinctly. “But that wasn’t all you, Dean.”

 

“How is that not all me?” Dean demands.

 

Natasha sighs. “The terrigen took out the woman, and she’s been included in the death toll. It turns out that the concussion from the man’s voice managed to kill the postman in something of a freak accident. The boy—”

 

“Oliver,” Dean says, interrupting her. “Ollie, he said.”

 

“He escaped out the back, but he ran into the police perimeter,” Natasha says gently. “He couldn’t hold it together.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “No. Nat, no.”

 

“That wasn’t on you, Dean,” she says. “He made a choice.”

 

“What choice did he have?” Dean asks. “He didn’t ask to be transformed. He didn’t ask to be abused. He didn’t—”

 

Dean feels the power surge under his skin, and Natasha puts her hands on either side of his face. “I need you to dial it back for me. Take a breath.”

 

“It’s my fault,” Dean says. “I need—I need to take responsibility. I need to tell them.”

 

“No.” Her tone is fierce. “Not right now. We’ll figure it out as a team.” She gestures. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t want to be drugged. We should have a press conference. I can tell people what happened.”

 

“No,” she says. “Dean, you have to let us figure out what we’re going to do as a team. And right now, you need to sleep and recover.”

 

Dean struggles, but is unwilling to hurt her. “People deserve to know the truth.”

 

“The truth is what we make of it,” Natasha replies. “And the truth might not serve us very well.”

 

The nurse on duty puts something in his IV, and Dean tries to sit up again. “It was on me.”

 

She holds him down by his shoulders. “I know what it feels like to have red in your ledger, but I need you to trust me right now. We’re going to handle this as a team, and you need to let us have your back. This is bigger than you.”

 

Dean struggles to keep his eyes open. “I hurt so many people.”

 

“We all have,” she says gently. “Sleep now. I’m going to be right here.”

 

~~~~~

 

He wakes up briefly the next morning, long enough to go to the bathroom and eat something light, but then passes out again immediately. When he finally wakes for good, Bruce is sitting next to his bed, reading a science journal.

 

At least, Dean thinks he’s reading a science journal, because his vision is still blurry from the concussion. “Hey,” he croaks.

 

Bruce looks up immediately, setting the journal aside and leaning towards Dean. “Hey yourself. You okay?”

 

Dean feels his face crumple, and he chokes back a sob. “Bruce…”

 

“Take a deep breath,” Bruce says gently. “A concussion can leave you emotionally volatile, and you can’t afford to lose control.”

 

“Like I already did?” Dean manages to say.

 

Bruce grips Dean’s forearm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. “The father was an abusive asshole, and he wouldn’t stand down. The kid was traumatized—”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Yeah, that would have triggered me, too.”

 

“His words literally hurt, Bruce,” Dean says. “He kept slinging insults, and the words had force. Do you think—do you think we become more of what we are?”

 

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Bruce replies. “But it’s as good a theory as any.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “He went after his kid again, and I just—I saw red. I don’t even know what happened after that.”

 

“I know how that feels,” Bruce says. “I won’t tell you that it’s okay, or that you shouldn’t feel guilty, because that would mean nothing. I will say that there are times when what we are dictates our responses, despite our best intentions.”

 

Dean tries to bring himself under control, with limited success. “I killed them.”

 

Bruce takes a deep, audible breath. “Your actions resulted in their deaths. There’s a small difference.”

 

“That’s semantics, and you know it,” Dean replies.

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “And if I’d been presented with the same scene, and I had lost control?”

 

“Shit, doc. You have to use logic on me?”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m a scientist, so that’s kind of my thing.” Bruce squeezes his arm. “You don’t have to answer. I just wanted to get you thinking instead of reacting.”

 

“I still hurt them,” Dean says.

 

Bruce nods slowly. “And that’s something you’re going to have to learn to live with.”

 

“I don’t know if I can,” Dean admits.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been there, too,” Bruce replies. “Look, they’re getting ready to release you, and we’re going to talk about how we’re going to respond to events as a team.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I need to take responsibility.”

 

Bruce grips his arm hard. “I know how you feel, but I need you to listen to me right now. If you take responsibility, it’s going to limit what we can do. More than that, it’s going to give them an opportunity to take you into custody. And once they have you, they can use you.”

 

Dean swallows. “So, you’re saying I’m not going to take responsibility.”

 

“Do you want to be a weapon?” Bruce asks.

 

“No, I don’t.” Dean scrubs his hands over his face. “You know I don’t. Fucking hell.”

 

“We’ve been talking about it all night,” Bruce says. “And we’ve come up with a plan, so I need you to listen to us while we talk strategy, okay?”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll listen.”

 

“Good,” Bruce says. “I brought some clean clothes. I suggest you make use of the shower.”

 

Dean knows he smells of sweat and smoke, and a shower is definitely warranted. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

 

Bruce pats him on the shoulder. “Good. You’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up.”

 

The thing of it is, Bruce is right. By the time he gets out of the shower, the soot and smoke washed down the drain, he has his emotions under control, and he feels a little steadier. He’s still sad and angry—at the abusive asshole, at himself, at Ollie for not listening—but he knows Bruce is right.

 

Dean knows he’s a weapon, and that he has triggers, and it’s up to him to manage those facts.

 

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do that yet, but he’ll figure it out; he has before.

 

When Dean enters the war room, the rest of the team, minus Thor, are present, looking tired and grim. The news is playing in the background, and Dean hears a woman say, “But if we call in the Avengers and they make matters worse, then what’s the point? SWAT would have done a better job.”

 

“Jarvis, turn off the news,” Tony says when he spots Dean. “We don’t need that right now.”

 

Dean sits down at the table. “I think I need to know what they’re saying about us, about me.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Steve says firmly.

 

Dean opens his mouth to protest and catches the expression on Bruce’s face, remembering his promise. He subsides and settles back in his chair.

 

Steve leans forward. “Dean, I agreed to send you in alone, and I didn’t pull you out, even when I knew things were going south. That’s on me. We can shoulder all the blame and doubt as a team; you don’t have to do it alone.”

 

“It would be easier for you all if I did,” Dean points out.

 

“No, because the Avengers were still on the scene, and people still died,” Clint replies. “You don’t get it. We were all there. We let you take the lead, but there’s no way we’re going to let you take the fall when we were partially to blame.”

 

“You didn’t blow up a city block,” Dean counters.

 

Tony clears his throat. “Right now, the Avengers have enough political capital to weather the storm. You might have enough on your own, but there’s no guarantee of that.”

 

“Agreed,” Steve says, a note of finality in his voice. “And there are people in the government who would love to get their hands on you, and use you for their own ends. We can’t let that happen.”

 

Dean glances at Bruce, who hitches a shoulder in a tacit confession that he’d been the one to raise that issue. “It’s going to make things harder for us going forward,” Dean points out.

 

“It might,” Tony agrees. “But you’re a part of this team, and we’d stand by any member who found themselves in similar circumstances.”

 

Dean remembers what Bruce said about being emotionally volatile, and he knows he’s probably not up to making tactical decisions right now.

 

The fact is, he trusts his team with his life, and he needs to trust them right now.

 

He looks at Natasha, who is sitting next to him, and she puts her hand over his where it’s resting on the table. “I agree,” she says simply. “Let us protect you.”

 

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. I don’t have a good argument against it.”

 

Tony smiles briefly. “Good. We have a statement ready that Cap will read, and I’ve announced a fund to take care of the victims and their families. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, I’d like to contribute.”

 

“Sure,” Tony replies. “Of course.”

 

“We all will,” Steve says firmly. “But I think you should lay low for a little bit.”

 

“Dean should be resting right now,” Bruce says. “He has a concussion, and it’s going to be a while before he’s up to anything.”

 

“I think that’s our cue.” Natasha stands up and offers Dean a hand.

 

“I’ll make sure you have food for the duration,” Bruce promises. “Doctor’s orders are at least three days of rest. You’ll do better if you take it easy and try not to think about anything.”

 

“I’ll keep him distracted,” Natasha promises. “Although I’ll rely on you to keep us fed. I hate cooking.”

 

“And Dean isn’t allowed to cook,” Bruce says firmly. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Natasha ushers him out of the meeting room and then to his apartment in the Tower. Dean is exhausted just from the meeting and the trip to his quarters, even if he’s only been awake a couple of hours at most.

 

But he’s had head injuries in the past, and so he knows what to expect. He’ll probably sleep a lot over the next few days, but maybe that’s for the best.

 

As long as he doesn’t get lost in nightmares, sleep might be a good respite.

 

When he strips and crawls under the covers, Natasha curls up next to him, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his bare chest. “I would have lost it, too. They were being particularly infuriating.”

 

“He was just a kid,” Dean mutters. “Just a scared kid. I should have been able to save him.”

 

“You did,” Natasha replies. “He damned himself. You saved Miri.”

 

“Yeah, maybe, but for what?” Dean asks. “Her whole family, gone.”

 

Natasha sighs. “And maybe she’ll find a new family. She’s an Inhuman, by the way, and an empath. Last we heard, she kept asking about you because you ‘felt safe.’”

 

Dean chokes back his tears. “Yeah, I was real safe.”

 

“And she said her brother and her dad scared her because they were so angry,” Natasha continues. “Actually, she tied colors to anger, so the popular opinion is that she’s a synesthete.”

 

Dean draws in a deep breath. “So, someone who sees emotions in color.”

 

“You are impressive,” Natasha says. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

 

He’s already fading out. “If I have a nightmare, don’t try to wake me,” he mutters.

 

Dean does end up sleeping on and off for the next few days. They might not say the words, but the fact that Natasha stays glued to his side tells Dean how she really feels. She’s kind and careful, which isn’t her normal MO, but he appreciates it.

 

As the days go by, his head feels clearer, but his grief is sharper. He keeps remembering the look on Ollie’s face, the asshole father—Walden Starling, as the news informs him. He remembers everything, and he wishes he didn’t.

 

Head injuries are supposed to bring amnesia, but Dean doesn’t have that out. Instead, he remembers it all.

 

His memories batter him, but he tries not to think about it. He’s going to have to come to terms with what he’s done, but he doesn’t know how.

 

So, he puts it off. He sleeps, he recovers, he buries his face in Natasha’s shoulder and breathes in deeply and gets his panic and grief under control when it threatens to overwhelm him.

 

He doesn’t lose control. There’s that much at least.

 

By the end of the week, Dean feels like he’s mostly back to normal. At least, his brain doesn’t feel so foggy, and his control is steady.

 

He doesn’t trust his control anymore, but he has it for now. Maybe that’s enough.

 

When he feels a little steadier, he goes back to work, but strictly in a support capacity. He’s still researching, still looking through the information Nat released into the wild.

 

Bruce enters his workspace a day or two before his birthday with an open box in his arms. His expression is hesitant and a little rueful.

 

“I don’t think I like the look on your face,” Dean says.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “Well, you’re not in trouble, and we already checked the package, so I’m not bringing trouble to your door.”

 

“But?”

 

“But there’s something I wasn’t sure I should tell you, and now that you’re a little steadier, I figure I should talk to you,” Bruce replies.

 

Dean gives him a suspicious look. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Gotta tell you, Doc, you’re freaking me out a little.”

 

Bruce winces. “Sorry, that’s not my intention. First things first, I know you’re not going to be thrilled, but Tony is planning a small birthday party for you.”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not interested in celebrating.”

 

“Just the team,” Bruce says. “Low key, nothing big.”

 

He gives Bruce a look. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

 

“Frankly, no,” Bruce replies. “I talked Tony out of throwing anything more than a low-key dinner party, and there’s a lot going on right now. The team needs to feel a sense of togetherness.”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay. I get that. What’s the rest of it?”

 

“Your brother called right after the incident,” Bruce says. “He saw the news, and he was worried about you. I told him to back off, that you’d been triggered, and that he was a weakness.”

 

“You weren’t wrong,” Dean says quietly. “Sam is a weakness of mine. I’ve known that for a while.”

 

“So, when he sent the package to the Tower, Tony had it X-rayed, and when _that_ didn’t turn up anything, we opened it,” Bruce says bluntly. “It’s nothing bad, and I think you should see it, but—”

 

“But you’re worried about my emotional volatility,” Dean supplies.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “It’s a concern.”

 

“So, why don’t we go to the safe room, I’ll open the package, and if I lose control, you’ll be there,” Dean suggests, figuring that’s what Bruce is going to say.

 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Bruce replies.

 

When they arrive at the safe room, and Bruce hands him the package, he pauses. “Look, Dean, whatever happens—you blow it up, you get upset—it stays between the two of us.”

 

Dean feels a spike of trepidation. “Yeah, okay.”

 

He wonders if Sam sent something that indicates he’s not interested in being Dean’s brother anymore, that having seen the havoc Dean could wreak, he ended the relationship.

 

Then again, Dean’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be seeing that box for a while if that was the case.

 

“I don’t think it’s bad,” Bruce assures him. “Just—you’ve had a lot on your plate.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I have,” Dean replies. “I’ll be okay.”

 

“I’ll be in observation if you need me.”

 

Dean puts the box down on the table and hesitantly slides out the contents. It’s one of those flat-rate USPS boxes, and it’s not super heavy, but the first item that slides out is familiar and all the more shocking for that.

 

He touches the leather cover of his dad’s old journal with reverent fingers. He knew Sam had it, but Dean hadn’t expected to see it again, let alone _own_ it. He’s not sure what it means, and then he sees the manila envelope and a folded letter.

 

After a moment of internal debate, Dean reads the letter first, and the words have him swallowing around the lump that’s appeared in his throat.

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I’ve kept these for too long. They belong to you, too. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen. I’m sorry for all of it, but mostly for blaming you for the things that were never your fault. Happy birthday._

_Your brother always,_

_Sam_

 

Dean swipes at his eyes, taking a deep breath as he opens the envelope, and then the pictures slide out. Dean hasn’t had a picture of his family— _any_ of his family—since he got picked up by the cops.  Dean didn’t have any personal effects on him at the time, and so he’s done without for the last couple of decades. When the other guys in the service had pictures posted, Dean joked that his got burned up in a house fire.

 

His close friends knew that he wasn’t exactly joking, but it stopped most of the questions.

 

But there are pictures of his mom and dad in here, of them as a family before his mom died, of him with Uncle Bobby, him with Sam in the salvage yard…

 

Dean suddenly has tangible artifacts of the life he’d left behind so many years before, and he realizes that his mom’s face had faded from his memory; so had his dad’s. Here, it’s all fresh again.

 

It’s fresh, and on top of his recent experience, it’s too much. He doesn’t lose control—not of his abilities—but he can’t hold back the emotional storm.

 

He looks at the picture of him with his parents and brother, and he can’t help but wonder how they’d respond if they knew of his abilities, of what he’d done, the blood on his hands.

 

Dean wonders if his mom would have hated him.

 

He tries to choke back a sob, but he can’t quite keep it in. Like the small pebble that starts an avalanche, Dean can’t stop crying once he starts.

 

The sobs wrack his chest, and Dean curls around the picture of him as a kid with his family. He clutches it as the emotions storm through him, and he fights to get himself under control.

 

A small, distant part of his brain recognizes that this is what Bruce had meant by everything remaining between the two of them, that he wouldn’t tell anybody what transpired. Bruce probably understands what it means for Dean to have these artifacts of a life he’s left behind.

 

And to have Sam’s letter, to know that Sam had known what happened before he wrote it, to know that he’s helping other Inhumans…

 

Dean gets himself under control with some difficulty, and when he finally is able to take a deep breath, to calm himself, he gathers up the pictures and the journal and Sam’s letter, and he puts them back in the box.

 

He wipes his eyes and leaves the safe room to find Bruce waiting for him. “You okay?” Bruce asks.

 

Dean shakes his head, trying to find the words, and he finally says, “No, but I think I will be eventually.”

 

Bruce claps him on the shoulder. “Good. It looks like your brother isn’t completely hopeless after all.”

 

Dean laughs. “No, I guess he’s not.”

 

And maybe, Dean thinks, he isn’t either.

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is faced with a triggering situation that involves two Inhumans, an abusive dad and his son, and that triggers Dean into losing control. There are deaths that Dean inadvertently causes.


End file.
